Sweaters Are a Girl's Best Friend
by DeWinter79
Summary: Renée's world is turning upside-down. She's moving to Portland for a new job and a new life where she can pretend to be normal. Little does she know that her flirtation with a guy at the Blue Moon Bar would become so much more than she bargained for! (Monroe x OC) - Read the Sequel - "Fifty Shades of Gray Sweaters"!
1. Chapter 1

**Sweaters Are a Girl's Best Friend****  
****By: DeWinter79**

**Chapter 1**

Portland, Oregon had its fair share of dives, but the Blue Moon Bar caught my eye. I'd been in Portland half a week now, preparing to move here permanently. It had been all business the past few days, and with all these changes, my world was turning upside-down. I desperately needed a mental break. Tonight I was going to clear the thoughts in my head and replace them with alcohol. The Blue Moon Bar seemed like the perfect place to accomplish that.

The cab driver let me out at the corner of Southeast Morrison Street by the bar, and I tipped him well. A chilling breeze hit me once the cab drove off. Portland was definitely colder than back home, and much to my dismay, I'd forgotten to wear my jacket. I'd left it in my hotel a few times already since I'd been here. Holding my arms tight against me, I briskly walked up toward the front entrance.

Hovering by the door was a scrawny man dressed in a dark sport coat and vest over a striped shirt. Wow, this guy was pretty funny looking. He moved from the door to a patch of neighboring bushes and reached into his breast pocket, retrieving a small, green toad. The toad vanished into his mouth. I ducked behind a nearby tree, shaking my head. Although he hadn't changed in front of me, I had no doubt in my mind what he was.

"Blue Beard," I muttered under my breath.

I'd seen people change all my life. Well, they weren't really people. To everyone else they were Bob the grocery clerk or Jim the policeman. But what I saw was beyond their human appearance. From what I'd been told, they liked to call themselves 'Wesen,' which was German for creature. And it wasn't really called a change; they called it a 'woge,' which was German for surge. Most Wesen were of German descent, and they used many German terms. (I wasn't privy to all the details.) Even their species were derivative German: Bauerschwein, Eisbiber, and Reinigen, just to name a few. When Wesen had their woge, it was like seeing inside their soul. Well, at least that's how I interpreted it. Their human facade would morph into whatever species they happened to be. But what was strange to them was that I could see what they really were underneath.

I didn't have any superpowers. I couldn't leap tall buildings in a single bound, and I hadn't been bitten by any radioactive spiders. (Not that I knew of, anyway.) I'd been accused of being a Grimm, but I'd never even met one, much less be one. The word seemed to strike terror within the Wesen community. There wasn't a word for what I was. Well, none that I'd found yet. I was just an enigma, but whatever I was, some Wesen accepted me, while others tried to avoid me. The Wesen of Portland didn't know me and what I could see. I was planning on keeping it that way.

I poked my head out just enough to catch sight of the guy walking back, looking smug and confident while running his fingers through his black hair. His face contorted as he had a woge. Underneath his human exterior was a goat-like creature, complete with short horns and a real goatee. Yep, definitely a Blue Beard. He retracted and then smiled to himself as he turned and waltzed through the front entrance door.

Continuing to stand behind the tree, I let out a sigh. What was I going to do now? I didn't know much about Blue Beards, (or their official German name, Ziegevolk) but I knew their M.O., and while toad eating was rare, it was definitely not a good thing to be around. These goat people were chick magnets, almost literally. Whatever was on the toads intensified their attraction, and that guy had swallowed a big one. I shook my head again. Maybe I just needed to find a different bar. I was in no mood for a one-nighter with a Blue Beard. But I was already here, and if I was careful, maybe I could steer clear of him.

Ignoring the cold, I waited outside a few moments longer until he was safely inside, more than likely schmoozing up a blonde or two. Slowly walking toward the door, I opened it a crack and peered inside. There the Blue Beard sat in full Casanova mode, conversing with a dirty blonde-headed woman at the bar. She was practically sitting in his lap, completely entranced, and he seemed preoccupied with her company. I took an empty chair to the left of the bar, which seemed a safe distance in case he was trolling for more than one partner tonight. (They were pervs like that.) But then again, he was kind of cute with his glossy, dark hair and his... Oh, wow! I shook my head. He was potent! Even from this distance the effects of that toad wavered my judgment. I moved one more seat down, focusing on the bottles of alcohol on the wall while flagging down the bartender for a tequila sunrise.

"Anything for you, Beautiful!" the bartender replied with a twinkle in his blue eyes. He flipped the glass in the air like a scene from _Cocktail, _gave me a big smile while showing off his incredibly white teeth, and winked at me as he set down the glass.

If Brad Pitt and Channing Tatum had mixed DNA, this guy was what you'd come up with. With frosted-tipped, blonde hair and one of those movie star faces, no doubt he was well versed in sweet talking the female customers and showing off his slick moves. This wasn't his first rodeo.

_"Just another tequila sunrise…"_

The slick bartender sang the tune as he finished pouring.

I smiled and paid for my drink, setting down a few extra dollars on the counter. "Here's a tip for the serenade." Music was like my second language, so he deserved it.

"Maybe I need to sing more often." Slick shot me another wide, bright-toothed smile. "Might get some extra tips that way."

As he walked off, I reached for my drink. The pink umbrella sticking out was amusing, but a bit too frilly for my mood today. I discarded the umbrella and took a long swallow. Not very strong, but at least the bar was fair with the tequila. It would do.

'Freebird' was faintly playing on the jukebox. Closing my eyes briefly, I picked out the familiar chorus in between the din of the bar crowd.

"_I'm as free as a bird now, and this bird you cannot change."_

Apropos for my thoughts right now. Free as a bird in a new city. But even though I couldn't change, I could still start over.

As I sipped from my glass, I swiveled my chair to people watch and to keep an eye on Blue Beard. Patrons were circling around him quite a bit, and he was affecting more than just the ladies. A guy in a loud, brown sweater with stripes, who was sitting in the chair to their left, appeared mesmerized by Blue Beard's conversation with Dirty Blonde.

From what I could make out, Blue Beard was talking about some garden he had while gesturing how the plants bloomed. Sweater Guy had his hand resting on his chin, leaning in closely to the couple. He shook himself out of the trance after a moment and took a long drink from his beer. Impressive. Most wouldn't have been able to do that.

The bar was busy, so I watched a few other couples as I emptied my drink. I rolled my eyes at one couple, who were all but having sex in the booth across from my side of the bar. I'd just gotten out of a relationship, so the last thing I wanted to see was explicit PDAs. But I was single, and it was absolutely fantastic to be on my own again. I had no one to answer to, and I could flirt with whomever I wanted. At least that's what I'd convinced myself. But I wasn't in much of a flirtatious mood. No one here had caught my eye except Blue Beard, and that wasn't anything but pheromones.

But then again, there was Sweater Guy. I glanced over in his direction once more. With his wild, curly brown hair and trimmed beard, Sweater Guy had that rugged, masculine look going on, despite his crazy sweater. Yeah, he was definitely appealing, but I'd need a little more liquid courage before approaching him. He was still focused on Blue Beard's hypno-show with Dirty Blonde, seeming more interested in them than with any of the women in here. Maybe there was a reason. That would be my luck.

I, on the other hand, had caught the eyes of many other patrons and had declined offers for more drinks and phone numbers than I'd cared to count. Couldn't a gal just have a night to herself?

I turned my gaze back toward Blue Beard, who was handing Dirty Blonde his card. Was that how dating worked now? I'd been out of the dating scene for a while, but the guys I'd talked to tonight sure hadn't been that professional. Dirty Blonde was completely smitten and held on to the business card like it was made of gold.

Sweater Guy finished off his drink in a hurry. He gave one last look at Blue Beard, shook his head, and stood. Holding his Bluetooth earpiece with two fingers, he walked out of the bar in a quick jaunt.

"Oh, well," I muttered to myself as the door closed behind him. "So much for that idea."

That he left was probably for the best, anyway. It was too soon to find someone new after breaking up with Jack. I swirled the ice in my empty drink. But a little rebound might be nice, though. If Sweater Guy had approached, I may not have shooed him off like I had the others. I could still take a chance and go outside. Perhaps he went out to smoke or take a phone call? I shook off the idea. Slick was beaming at me while he poured a beer for a customer. Maybe I should hang around for a rebound with him tonight instead. I laughed at the mere thought.

Blue Beard whispered a few more words in Dirty Blonde's ear and left shortly after. I breathed out a sigh of relief that he was gone. Fighting off his attraction wasn't the easiest thing to do, unless you knew what was drawing you in. Dirty Blonde was still in a daze, re-reading his card and grinning from ear to ear.

I moved in closer to the middle of the bar. The PDA couple across from me were now making a porno in their booth. They knew people could see them, right? I shook my head. That was too much for me. Once I changed seats, I motioned to Slick for another drink.

"Another sunrise?" he asked, and I nodded. "Rough day?" he inquired further as he poured the tequila into the glass.

I let out a long sigh. "Rough year."

The bartender laughed, but then stopped, looking unsure if I was joking or not, which sadly I wasn't. "Well, I'm here if you need anything, Beautiful." He winked again, and I gave him a forced smile.

Halfway through my second drink, I caught another glimpse of that crazy sweater by the door. Sweater Guy had returned. He headed back to the bar and approached Dirty Blonde. So, he wasn't interested in Blue Beard after all. Sitting only one seat away, I could hear them quite well, so I eavesdropped.

Sweater Guy leaned in toward her. "You know if you like gardens, I happen to, uhh…"

"Piss off," Dirty Blonde snapped curtly, cutting him short. She walked out of the bar, business card in her hand. She was probably off to meet up with Bluey and earn the nickname I'd given her tonight.

"Okay…" Sweater Guy replied almost to himself. He turned back to the bar, signaling for Slick. "One more, please."

The last drink had me tipsy, and I tended to get chatty the more I drank. Since I was getting a second chance to talk to Sweater Guy, I didn't want to pass it up.

"Does that line ever work?" I asked, which seemed to startle Sweater Guy out of his thoughts. Gardens was kind of an obscure pick-up line to begin with. But twice in one night from two different guys? That was amusing.

He turned in my direction and moved into the seat next to me, beer in tow. "Well, that line seemed to be working for the other guy," he replied in a deflated tone, removing his Bluetooth earpiece and tucking it in his pocket.

"Between you and me, I think he cheats. It's more than just his lines." I smirked in reply. "But it's definitely not his looks either," I added quickly.

Sweater Guy smiled, taking a drink from his glass. "Yeah, well, it didn't hurt to try." His smile was genuine, not like the practiced one Slick the bartender had.

"That woman was so smitten with that oddball," I commented almost to myself, "I half expected her to make out with his business card."

Sweater Guy shrugged. "You know, I hope she finds poison ivy in his garden." He chuckled loudly and took another swig of beer.

I laughed. It was the first real laugh I'd had in a while. "With that type of guy, it might not be the only rash she gets tonight."

"No kiddin'." He turned my way and grinned. "So, umm, you don't like gardens, do ya?"

"I adore them," I replied, taking the last sip of my drink. "I practically have a green thumb."

He laughed then said, "There, ya see? I'm one for one."

"So..." I tilted my head slightly. "When the girl says, 'yes,' then what?"

"Hmm..." Sweater Guy furrowed his brow. "I, uh, hadn't gotten that far yet. I suppose I could say..."

"Are you ready for a third?" Slick asked, interrupting Sweater Guy's line. He eyed my empty glass and then eyed Sweater Guy. He looked him over, seeming convinced there was no competition. Slick and arrogant. Nice combo there, buddy.

"Actually I think I'm ready for a shot," I replied. "Patrón with lime, please."

The bartender grabbed the Patrón from the top shelf and poured the spirit into a shot glass. I kicked it back effortlessly, following up with the lime he held out to me.

"One more," I said, and Slick refilled the shot glass.

I repeated the kickback on the second shot and felt eyes on me as I held the lime to my mouth. I turned to Sweater Guy, who was watching me fixedly.

"You're finishing those off pretty fast," he commented.

My cheeks flushed warm from the alcohol. "Care to join me on a shot?" I asked, holding out my shot glass in his direction.

"Hope you're not driving tonight," he said with a hint of concern.

"I have the cab company on speed dial," I assured him and smiled. "But you didn't answer my question; care to do one with me?" I shook my shot glass in his direction again. "My treat."

Sweater Guy put his hand to his bearded chin like he was contemplating the offer.

"I promise not to take advantage of you," I chided when he didn't respond.

He grinned at me. Yeah, the Patrón was kicking in. I caught myself saying that aloud.

"Sure I'll take one," Sweater Guy finally replied.

Slick frowned at me a bit for buying him a drink and gruffly reached for a second shot glass, pouring the two and stomping off. I laid twenty-five dollars down to pay for the shots. He returned and took the money.

"No change," I said, and his frown turned back into a smile.

_"Don't ask her on a straight tequila night…"_

Slick sang again and then wandered off to help another customer.

"What was that all about?" Sweater Guy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He just loves to sing." I chuckled and we reached for our drinks. "To gardens filled with poison ivy!" I lifted my shot glass and clinked his against mine.

He laughed. "To poison ivy!" Our eyes met as we both drank our shots in unison, and I quickly reached for my lime.

Sweater Guy had mysterious, deep brown eyes... The kind of eyes I could get lost in. Jack's eyes were green like mine, which I took as a sign from the universe that we were meant to be. Oh, how naive that was. But those brown eyes of Sweater Guy's had a story behind them. I wanted to know his story.

The earlier shots were finally taking effect. Wow, maybe a third shot wasn't such a brilliant idea after all.

"I, umm, didn't get your name," said Sweater Guy as I weaved a bit in my chair.

"Renée." I set down my glass. "And you are?"

"Monroe," he replied with a wink. Hopefully he wasn't taking cues from Slick.

I beamed up at him. "Good to know your name." The 'Sweater Guy' nickname was becoming comical.

"Sweater Guy?" he asked, sounding confused. Oh, no. I was speaking aloud again. I really had to watch that.

"Sorry, but your sweater stands out a bit." What was on it anyway? Aside from the stripes, there was some type of animal. Buffalo or an elephant perhaps? "But I like it," I added when the expression on his face turned sour. It gave his rugged look a bit of charm. Was it made of cotton or wool? I ran my finger across his sleeve to find out. It was soft, but...

Monroe looked up with a surprised grin, and I quickly let go. "Well, umm, I'm glad you approve." He chuckled as I dropped my hand to my lap. Oh, crap. I was really drunk.

"Sweaters seem to be a Portland fashion statement," I continued, attempting to cover up my embarrassment. "Everyone seems to be wearing one," I added, surveying the bar and pointing out the sweaters of muted blues and grays throughout the crowd.

"Not from around here, huh?" Monroe asked.

"Nope. On a U.S. tour."

"On tour?" He lifted an eyebrow and leaned in, seeming interested.

I laughed then clarified, "I'm on a road trip of sorts. Driving cross country and taking a much needed adventure."

"Of sorts?" Monroe asked as he propped up his elbow on the bar and rested his chin on his hand. "How's that work, man?"

"Well, it's mainly for my job. I just got promoted, and the new position called for a location change," I explained. "Instead of flying, I rented a car and just drove here instead. I have to finalize some things at the office and look for a place to live, and then I'm headed back home." I picked at my lime that was on my napkin. "By the end of January I'll be packing things up and settling here in Portland. It's been quite liberating."

Well, it was liberating once Jack and I came to an impasse on my career change. After a few fights, I'd discovered he'd been cheating on me the past year with his friend Sam. He and Sam went bowling a lot. He and Sam would stay late working at the bar. Obviously, I'd never met this friend of his. Who knew Sam was a girl?

Moving to Portland was going to be a fresh start for other reasons, too. Aside from the new job and leaving Jack, there was that gifted vision I had of a whole 'other world' that normal people couldn't see. The Portland Wesen community wasn't aware of my secret, so it was going to be nice to be one of the normal ones for a change. Sometimes this knowledge was a curse, and now I had an opportunity at obscurity here in Portland. No one here knew I wasn't just an average girl, and fortunately I'd seen enough in my life not to react when I saw someone's 'true colors.'

Monroe the Sweater Guy seemed interested in my rambling. Oh my, I talked way too much when I was drunk. What the heck had I said?

"So, where did this road trip start?" he asked. Good, I'd kept the 'other world' thoughts inside my head.

"Louisville, Kentucky," I replied, rubbing my temple. My senses were starting to slightly fade.

"Wow, that's kinda a long distance there, man." He lifted his chin, watching me waver. The alcohol was really hitting me. "Hey, are you doing okay?"

"Oh…" I shook my head, which only made it worse. "Lesson learned; three shots are too much." I tried standing, but I was losing my balance, so I held on to the chair.

"Where are you staying? Let me give you a ride," Monroe offered.

"Thanks, but it's all right," I responded quickly, stumbling once again on my black heels. "I can get a cab."

"Dude, you don't need to be standing," Monroe insisted as he stood and moved in behind me. He was strong, and he easily lifted me back to my seat.

Thank goodness Monroe came back to the bar. There was definitely an appealing quality to him. His cologne drifted near my nose, and it was so inviting. Jack never wore cologne; he thought it was silly. The scent of cloves with a woodsy aroma underneath lingered all spicy and warm in the air. What kind was it?

"Thanks," I said while rummaging in my shoulder bag for my cell phone. As I held the thing out in front of me, the buttons read like Greek.

Monroe watched as I attempted to make a call. "Seriously, I can drive you. It's not safe for you to be here, you know, umm, like this." He glanced suspiciously around the bar as he spoke.

"You are sweet," I replied, glancing back, "but getting into cars with strangers whilst intoxicated isn't always safe either." Yeah, I was using the word 'whilst.' I was trashed.

"And a cab driver is…?" He raised his eyebrows and gave me a 'think about it' look.

I smiled up at him. "Touché!" Okay, so he had a point. "Hey, do you have your ID on you?" I asked.

Monroe gave me a puzzled look, but he searched his back pocket and produced a driver's license from his wallet, handing me the card. "Umm, I will get this back, right?"

I nodded with a grin and then flagged down Slick, passing him the ID. "This chivalrous gent is taking me back to my hotel." I told Slick. "Will you photocopy this, so in case I'm murdered, someone will know who did it?"

Slick laughed, but did as I asked. When he returned he told Monroe, "Don't go murdering her, bro. She's too hot to die." He winked at me while handing Monroe back his ID. Slick motioned me closer, and I swiveled my chair as I leaned against the bar. "If this guy doesn't work out, you come back and see me, Beautiful."

I held back a laugh while shaking my head more slowly this time. "Oh, you know I will."

Slick smugly grinned and walked off to refill someone's beer. Oh, yeah. Like _that _was gonna happen.

Monroe let out a short chuckle, and I turned back in his direction. "At least you didn't tell him to piss off," he remarked. Oh, I'd said that last part aloud, too.

"Monroe, I'm all yours." I smiled widely.

"Okay." Monroe raised an eyebrow and shot me a sly smirk. Crap! That had sounded more forward than I'd intended.

The heat immediately crept up my cheeks. "Please disregard that." Honestly, that I could even complete full sentences right now was surprising.

"Officially, umm, disregarding." He held his arm out to me. "Let's just get you back to your hotel… safe."

I edged out of my seat and took his arm graciously. Standing was difficult, but walking was an even bigger challenge. We maneuvered through the crowd toward the front door.

"Clever on the ID," said Monroe while I continued to hold on to him tightly. "So, do you really think I'd, you know, murder you?" he asked with hesitation.

"There are heroes, and then there are villains," I replied as we moved forward. "I'm hoping you're a hero." He seemed lost in thought at my comment. "Is the silence an indicator that you're a villain?" I asked jokingly.

"We all have dark sides," Monroe responded quietly. Okay, that was kind of cryptic.

Once we were out of the bar, the cold night air beat against me. I'd worn a black skirt and a sheer purple blouse. Not Portland attire at all. Oh, if only I hadn't left my jacket at the hotel. The chill whisked against my legs, and I shivered.

"You're gonna freeze out here if you wear things like that," Monroe said, and I caught him eyeing my chilled legs. I was drunk, but I wasn't stupid. He looked up and asked, "Didn't you bring a coat or something?"

"No, I forgot to grab one. It's been unusually warm in Louisville, and I'm out of the habit," I slurred. "Do you happen to carry an extra sweater?" I asked and laughed at my own joke.

"Nope, no sweaters, but I have a heater that works," he offered.

We walked toward a vintage, yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked by a large tree across the street.

"Adorable!" I commented.

He looked at me. "What, the car?"

"Yeah, that too," I quickly replied before thinking. Stupid tequila.

"Why is the tequila stupid?" he amusedly asked. Crap, I wasn't talking in my head again. I really had to be careful.

"The drinker of the tequila is actually the stupid one," I replied.

"Dude, I don't think she's as stupid as she thinks she is," Monroe retorted and laughed as he helped me into the passenger side of his VW. Well, at least I was a funny drunk. "That ID thing was kinda smart, you know?" he added as he checked to ensure I was securely inside before closing the door.

I tugged on my skirt to keep it down while I positioned myself in the seat. Wow, it was really short. No wonder he was checking out my legs. A wardrobe change was definitely going to be necessary once I officially moved here. I managed to buckle the seat belt as I rubbed my arms, trying to find some warmth.

Monroe walked around to the driver's side and got in. "So, where are you staying?" he asked, starting the ignition and turning on the heater. The VW made a cricket-like chirping sound as the engine idled.

"The Hotel Westin on Southeast Alder," I replied. "It's just five or six blocks away."

Monroe nodded. "I know it."

We started to move forward, and the heater did its job as I defrosted a little.

"It's nice to find a good person in this world," I said aloud. "There are a lot of messed up 'people' out there." I used finger quotes on the word 'people.' If I kept this up, I was going to tell him everything I knew.

Alcohol made me such an open book. Yes, Sweater Guy, there are monsters, creatures, and things out there that would make your head spin. You can't see them, but I can. This guy would think he'd picked up a psycho, for sure. I encouraged my brain to be still. The hotel was right down the street. Surely I could contain myself for ten minutes.

"Well, I assure you I'm not a bad…" He stopped a moment. "I'm not one of those kinds of 'people,'" he finished, mocking my finger quotes.

I chuckled. "Good to know." If he only knew how comforting that statement really was.

As I leaned back in the seat, I closed my eyes and willed myself to stay silent. But I couldn't be silent when I was drunk. I hummed softly to myself instead.

"Are you humming 'Freebird'?" Monroe asked.

"Oops, sorry." I opened my eyes slightly. "Guess I am."

A few moments later Monroe pulled up to the front of the hotel. I sat back up in my seat. Somehow I'd managed to hold my tongue on the rest of the drive.

"Want me to walk you in?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, just to get you to your door?" he added quickly, perhaps so I wouldn't take it the wrong way. At this point I would've been okay taking it the wrong way.

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think I could use a hand."

Did I have to go back out in the freezing cold so soon? The wind was just dreadful, and Monroe's heater in the VW was so warm and wonderful. Regardless, I forced the door open, unbuckled my seatbelt, and attempted to lift myself up. Monroe was already on the passenger side, extending out his open hand. I took it and was quickly on my feet, grabbing my shoulder bag as I went.

I fought through the cold again while I clung to Monroe's warm arm. We quickly walked to the main entrance and entered the hotel. The clerk behind the counter gave me a knowing look as we passed through the front lobby. Great, now the staff was going to think I was a whore. Fortunately, I had a room on the first floor, so we didn't have to go far. Room 148 was just down the hall. I hunted through my bag for my card key, eventually finding it near the bottom.

The light on the door turned green as I passed the card through the slot, and I leaned against the open doorframe. "Thank you for the ride and not murdering me." I gave Monroe a teasing smile.

He chuckled. "Umm, you're welcome, I think?"

"It was nice to meet you, Monroe." I kissed him quickly on the cheek, barely keeping my balance as I leaned up. Kissing him elsewhere would've been so much better, but I refrained in spite of my condition. After all, I didn't want the hotel staff to be right about me.

Monroe blushed under his beard. "Anytime." His eyes twinkled with a hint of red, or perhaps that was just the alcohol making the effect. I wasn't sure. He took my hand and kissed it lightly, keeping his soulful, brown eyes on mine.

Thankfully I had the door to lean on and softly sighed. "And they say chivalry is dead."

"Nah, it's not dead." He smirked. "It's just playing possum."

"Maybe it just needed someone to call its bluff."

Monroe smiled at my remark. "Maybe so." That genuine smile of his made me a little giddy. "Well, umm, goodnight." He took a step back and let out a short breath.

"Goodnight, Hero." I grinned up at him, stumbling into my room as I closed the door behind me.

I fell on my bed. "Oh, Sweater Guy, where have you been all my life?" I murmured as Rihanna's song of the same name danced through my head.

I lay there a moment, but then I immediately shot up. I didn't get his number! I didn't know his last name! Well, crap! How stupid are you, Renée? You find a great guy, and you don't have any way of reaching him again. Just perfect!

I dropped back on the bed. No use trying to hobble back out into the hall to see if he was still there. Two lessons learned tonight; don't do three shots of Patrón, and for goodness sake, get a nice guy's phone number! That was the last thought that passed through my brain that night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The next morning I awoke, still in my clothes and with a small crick in my neck from the position I'd slept in last night. I squinted at the clock. Ten-thirty! Crap! I had to be at the office in an hour to fill out paperwork!

I struggled to my feet, racing through the hotel room for a hot shower and a change of clothes. I dried my long, chestnut brown hair as quickly as I could. I'd have time to apply my make-up in the car during the red lights. I checked myself in the mirror before leaving. I was put together well enough. I had on a tan two piece suit with matching skirt and pearls. I hated pearls, but they looked professional, so I wore them anyway. The make-up would finish the look as long as I caught enough red lights. Thank goodness the office was close to the hotel they'd put me up in.

I made my way to the hotel parking lot and located my red Honda Accord rental. It wasn't as comfortable as my blue Chevy Malibu back home, but it had gotten me from point A to point B. I'd put quite a few miles on it with this cross country trip.

Ten minutes and some mascara, foundation, and eye shadow later, I arrived right on time at the office. I applied some lip gloss in the elevator. The mirrored walls gave me a chance to straighten my suit. Yeah, I was presentable. No one would know I'd rushed to get here. The alcohol last night had really messed up my schedule.

The managers at the bank gave me a warm welcome and showed me around the facility. They seemed like jovial people. My office in Louisville was stuffy compared to the openness and flow this one had. Being a Financial Trainer had its perks, but getting promoted to Corporate Financial Trainer for the main office in Portland was like a dream come true. I'd worked hard to climb up the ladder, and I was finally getting recognized for all my hard work. It was a shame I'd have to wait a few months to start working here. After seeing my new office and meeting the staff, it was going to be hard to go back to my cramped quarters in Louisville. But I had to tie up loose ends there and pass the torch to the eager beaver who was taking my place. (He really was a beaver, I wasn't making that up.)

I left in good spirits. This was really happening! My flight was around noon tomorrow, so I took the opportunity to do some more sight-seeing around downtown Portland, soon to be my new home. I watched the road for any sign of a yellow VW. No such luck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

I thought about Monroe quite often the first couple of weeks I was back at home. By Christmas he was a fading memory. Maybe I'd just dreamed him up? I was pretty drunk that night. Anything was possible. He was like a fairy tale in a storybook; a knight on a white horse (or a yellow VW) who came to rescue the drunken damsel in heels.

Until I was ready to go back to Portland for good, my best friend, Chloe, had offered her place for me to stay since I'd moved out of Jack's. She and I had bonded in high school and had been inseparable ever since. She was also a Karnickelhöhle. My rabbit friend was never afraid of what I could see. She was actually intrigued and relieved she had someone outside the Wesen community she could be herself with. To me, she was just a witty, gorgeous girl, who just happened to be addicted to carrots.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

Two months later, Jack was still calling all the time, trying to talk me out of moving, and making more excuses for his 'lapse in judgment' with Sam.

"A year-long affair is not a lapse in judgment," I told him for the hundredth time on the phone.

"But she meant nothing to me. It was just sex," Jack said matter-of-factly, like that was a reasonable answer. "And I can barely even recall it," he added.

"Oh, and that makes it better?" I scowled. Like he could easily forget those kinds of things. "I feel kind of bad for Sam right now if all she was to you was a forgettable lay." I hung up before Jack had time to respond.

"Let me talk to him next time," Chloe said while standing by the kitchen counter. She was twirling her long, blonde hair and munching on a celery stick. I turned off my cell phone.

"Right, because getting all Bugs Bunny on his ass is gonna help," I said and grinned at her.

"Hey! That was a low blow!" she scoffed, but then smiled.

Chloe had a Christie Brinkley model smile. She was a knockout in every way. Lean and toned from head to toe, she had the boys following her around at school, vying for a chance to go on a date with her. There was a reason they were called Playboy Bunnies. She was the real deal.

I tossed my cell phone on the couch beside me. "I'm going to change my number."

"Don't you dare!" She pointed her celery stick at me. "You've had that number three times longer than you've been with that asshole."

I shrugged. "Maybe I can call the cell phone company and have him blocked or something."

"Or we could have him cement blocked." Chloe pounded her fist into her open hand for effect. She'd been a Drama Theater Major in college and loved any opportunity to be melodramatic.

I laughed. "I'll call up my friendly, neighborhood mafia right now."

"I have a cousin that has connections," she said as if she were serious. "He could make it look like an accident."

"Sure." I laughed at her again. "An 'accident.'" I used finger quotes to emphasize my point.

"Hey, it's just a suggestion," Chloe replied, holding on to her smile. "So, when are you going back to Portland to close on the house?" she asked and sat on the couch next to me.

"I fly out this weekend to finalize everything," I replied, my own smile forming. "Then by next weekend I'm on the road in my U-Haul to start my life over."

So much had changed in the past few months. I'd finally decided on a place to live after much haggling with the realtors on a price. Eventually they had caved, and I'd scored a pretty nice deal on a house that was beyond anything I'd ever had here in Louisville. If I was moving up, I wanted to do it in style.

"Are you sure going cross country with a U-Haul truck is practical?" Chloe asked, but she knew I was never really practical. Her crystal blue eyes regarded me in their usual mothering way. She was protective of me, and most of the time I appreciated her for it, because I could be pretty reckless.

"It's been a mild winter, so I ought to be fine. Plus, the last trip was one of the best experiences I'd had in a long time." A brief flicker of Monroe and November came to the surface of my mind. "You could always go with me and then fly back," I offered.

"I don't see us recreating Thelma & Louise with a U-Haul," she chuckled. "Besides, you need some 'Renée Time.'"

"Come on. You'll be Thelma and I'll be Louise. It'll be our last adventure together before I start my new life."

"Which one is Thelma again?" Chloe remarked. "I want to be the hot one."

"There was a hot one?" I asked and we both laughed.

Chloe sighed, patting my arm. "I'm gonna miss you, Renée."

I leaned in and gave her a hug. "There's no way the universe can separate the awesomeness we have." I said.

She flashed me her model smile. "Don't you forget it." Her ears elongated and her nose wiggled wildly.

* * *

A/N: I hope the story of Renée doesn't get too boring, but you gotta know a little bit about her, right? And now you've met Chloe!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

When I arrived back in Portland, the memories of the night at the Blue Moon Bar came back to me. I drove by the bar on a whim. I had time to stop in. It was happy hour, and Slick the bartender was working the crowd. Some things never changed.

As I walked up, Slick's face brightened. "Tequila Sunrise!" he exclaimed and winked at me. "Where have you been, Beautiful?" It seemed I wasn't the only one who had nicknames for people.

"I was back at home in Kentucky, but pretty soon I'll be a Portlandian," I replied, hoping I'd used the term correctly.

"Sweet!" he replied, blinding me with his bright-white smile. "So, while you're here, can I get ya anything?"

I leaned against the bar. "Well, I had a stupid question... Do you recall that guy who took me back to my hotel when I was here before?" I asked.

"Yeah," he scowled as he straightened the glasses behind the counter. "What about him?"

"You wouldn't happen to have tucked away that photocopy of his license, by any chance?" I asked. It was a long shot, but it couldn't hurt to try.

"Oh, that? Nah." He idly tossed a glass up in the air. "Once I watched the news and saw there were no murdered beautiful ladies, I chucked it." Slick shook his head as he set the glass down. "Why, did he do something to ya?" His movie star smile faded and was replaced by a real look of concern.

"No, it's nothing like that," I assured him.

Slick's smile returned. "So, if he's out of the picture…"

I laughed before he finished his sentence. "See ya around. I gotta head out."

"Once you're here for good, come back and see me, Beautiful!" He started singing 'Tequila Sunrise' again as I walked out of the bar.

Well, that was disappointing. I was silly to think it would be that easy to find him. I got back in my rental and made my way to the realtor's office. A few hours later I was officially an Oregon home owner.

I stopped by the house, looking up at the tall, Victorian style home. It was a colorful golden yellow, with deep brown and forest green trim. I could always change the color later, but for now it fit my mood just fine. The front gable had two brown diamonds painted on either side of an oval window in the center. A large porch, which was begging for a few comfortable chairs, set in front of the picture window to the left of the stairs that led to the front door. The second floor had a balcony coming off the master bedroom. I'd planned on using the bedroom downstairs. Honestly, I hadn't decided what I was going to do with the upstairs yet. But it was better to have the extra space than to not have enough. Below the porch were basement built-in garage doors, which was in front of the modest driveway. Not many houses had a driveway on this street, so I was lucky.

There wasn't much of a front yard, which I wasn't too thrilled about. No space to plant hardly anything worthwhile. So disappointing since I loved gardening. A crude bush beside the stairs was in dire need of some sculpting. At least that would be worth working on in the spring. The back yard had ample space to get creative with shrubs, plants, and flowers once it was warmer. Too bad no one would see it back there. Even in my jacket I shivered as I surveyed the rest of the front of the house. Between the drizzling rain and the wind, it seemed near impossible that it would ever get warm enough to plant anything.

I unlocked the door and found the porch light switch. Nothing. Maybe the bulb was burned out. I walked through the empty rooms, taking in the space. It was all mine. Next week was going to be crazy, but I was looking forward to it. I breathed in heavily and slowly exhaled, closing my eyes. The quiet was peaceful, but I couldn't stay here and enjoy it. I had to get back to the hotel. My flight was leaving early tomorrow.

* * *

A/N: Renée is getting closer to moving to Portland!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"You're just going to walk out on four years?" Jack demanded as I tried to box up the few last things from our apartment.

"Jack, this discussion is over. You've made your bed, now lie in it… with Sam." I added that last part just to make myself clear.

If it wasn't for the love I had for my books and little treasures, I would've just left it all there. I didn't want to have to look at Jack much less listen to him tell me how wrong I was to leave. Chloe had offered to come with me to chaperone, but that would've been worse. The last time they had been in the same room it was a nightmare. Chloe had a way with words, and when she was protecting me she was ruthless. They had screamed and cursed enough to make a sailor blush. No, I'd just suffer on my own.

"Renée, you're being selfish about this," Jack said. "Sam and I are over. I want you, Babe."

I held back my scowl. I hated it when he called me 'Babe.' It made me think of those guys in Hollywood who threw the word out there after rubbing elbows (and other things) with aspiring young actresses. 'Don't call me, I'll call you, Babe.'

"I'm being selfish?" I snapped back instead, turning to face him.

He smiled, his green eyes twinkling at me in satisfaction. I was acknowledging him, and that's why he'd said it.

"I'm devoted to you... to us. I slipped up, and now you're busting my balls over it." He ran his fingers through his short blonde hair and smiled like he'd done no wrong. "I apologized, and you won't accept it. That's selfish."

"Oh please!" I snorted, standing up and crossing my arms. I walked out of the living room and grabbed a beer out of the fridge.

"I love my books," I chanted quietly a few times as I hovered in the kitchen. I'd just pack my things quickly, I'd leave, and it would all be over.

I took a long drink from the bottle and went back into the living room. Jack was still smiling at me. He really didn't get it, did he? Why did I ever think he was smart and clever? His looks had definitely overshadowed his lack of common sense.

I sat back down on the floor and resumed putting my Alexandre Dumas collection into a storage box.

"Babe, just talk to me. You remember that night in the Bahamas when you were wearing that little pink bikini and we snuck out of our hotel together? Remember the fun we had on the sand?" He bent down next to me, taking a book from my hand and replacing it with his hand. "Remember the night you and I went up to the roof on the fourth of July and…"

I stopped him there. "Jack, I'm in no mood to take a trip down memory lane with you. If all those memories were so important…" I paused. I wasn't spinning this broken record anymore.

"They were really important, babe." He continued to hold my hand and leaned in to kiss me.

I backed away. "Jack I'm leaving. I'm leaving tonight. We're done, so please either help me pack, or just let me be."

Jack got up. His smile was gone now. "I can't help you pack. I'm not going to contribute to you leaving me. I love you, Renée. I fucked up." That was the first thing he'd said all day I could agree with.

Jack walked over to the wall by the front door and punched it hard, leaving a dent. He gasped, holding his hand, and cursing under his breath. Yeah, that was manly. A few months ago I would've been right by his side, getting him ice and soothing the pain away. Today I continued to pack my books.

Clutching his hand, he grimaced as he tried to fight back the pain. "I'm going out," he said through gritted teeth, slamming the door as he left.

Good. I smiled at the door. Maybe I'd get this finished before he returned.

I taped up a few more boxes nice and tight and went to the driveway, putting them in the U-Haul with the others. I owned a lot less than I thought I did. The large U-Haul had quite a bit of space left. Twenty-eight years and I had little to show for it. But I had my books, and I'd amassed a large collection. Boxes upon boxes were filled with them and were stacked in the back of the U-Haul. A few lamps, clothes, photos, and paintings made up the rest of the odds and ends. Everything else I'd already packed up months before when I'd moved in with Chloe.

I went back inside and lifted my cuckoo clock off the wall. The clock had been in my family forever, and I was the only grandchild that appreciated it. So when my grandmother died, I inherited one of my childhood memories. It was a constant fixture in her house, and I would watch it for hours as a kid. The bird on the top would chirp and move every hour.

I surrounded the clock with bubble wrap and boxed it the best I could. I managed to carefully remove the wooden shelf it set on, wrapping it, and stuffing it in the box next to the clock to keep them both from shifting.

When I returned to the bedroom, my eyes roamed around, looking for anything else I may have left behind. I did a quick check with the other rooms. Surprisingly I had it all done. I breathed a sigh, partly of relief, but another part of closure. I wrote out a brief note to Jack and took my apartment key off my key ring, setting it on top. The note was short and sweet:

**Thanks for the memories…****  
****~R~**

I started humming Beyoncé's 'Irreplaceable' as I got into the U-Haul and drove away, not looking back. I'd said all my goodbyes to friends and family last night at my going away party. I just had one final stop. I headed back to Chloe's house.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

"You be safe for me," Chloe urged, her rabbit nose trembling and her teeth clicking as she shed a few tears.

I gave her a hug. "I promise." We held each other for a long time. "I don't know what I would've done without you these past few months," I said finally, wiping away my own tears.

"You know I'd do anything for you, Renée." She smiled. "You're my best friend who knows me like most never will… and visa-versa." She gave me a knowing look. "We will always help each other, in good times and in bad. Especially when assholes are causing one of us misery."

"And it was appreciated," I replied wholeheartedly.

Chloe walked me to the driveway. "Go on and be a bigwig," she said. "Just don't forget the little people when you're looking down on them from your skyscraper window."

I laughed. "That won't be a problem."

"I'm gonna miss you." She started to cry again.

"The universe will never keep us apart!" I reminded her as I got back into the U-Haul. The tears began again as I merged onto the expressway. I brushed them away. This was a good thing… A wonderful thing. I forced a smile. I had a lot of road to cover and I needed to focus.

This time it was going to be different with driving a U-Haul. Hitched to the back was my trusty, blue Chevy Malibu. The gas was going to cost as much as a first class ticket overseas, but the drive was a cathartic release for me. Chloe had been right, and I needed 'Renée Time.' I had plans to stop in Omaha for the night. It was a twelve hour drive, and I'd be exhausted, but I knew I could reach it like I did back in November. Then from Omaha I'd drive to Salt Lake City for day two. Day three was Salt Lake City to Portland.

The multi-tasker that I was, I'd planned furniture shopping while on the road. I'd already picked out a new furniture set on the Portland IKEA website and had made arrangements for delivery on Friday when I would arrive. There was a place in Omaha that had a dining room table that I'd fallen in love with online. There was plenty of space in the U-Haul, so I could pick it up easily. I'd taken the guest bedroom set with me. The mattress would be replaced once I settled in later that week. I'd envisioned torrid sex scenes between Jack and Sam on that mattress. I wouldn't have even taken it if I hadn't needed a bed.

Jack called when I'd crossed the Illinois state border. Surprisingly he'd waited that long to call.

"Thanks for the memories? Are you kidding me?" he whined in my ear. I regretted answering the phone.

"You wanted to take a trip down memory lane," I said. "That's all they are anymore, just memories. Hopefully they'll fade."

"You don't really mean that," he scoffed. I really meant it.

"Jack, this is gonna be the last time I talk to you. I have a long drive, and I need to move on. So do you. I wish you well." I added the last part to keep my karma intact. What I really wanted to say was, 'fuck off.'

"I'm not giving up on us," Jack replied like it was a challenge. I hung up without responding. Aries men… they were always trying to conquer.

I emptied my negative thoughts and put my focus back on the road ahead of me. There was quite a ways to go before I reached Omaha. I turned up my MP3 player to Willie Nelson's 'On the Road Again' and set the cruise control.

* * *

A/N: I felt it was important to get a little story about Jack. Stay tuned for the next chapter! (:


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The next few days were an endless sea of cities and truck stops. A yellow VW scuttled past me while driving through Wyoming. I wondered how Monroe was doing, and if he was still saving helpless women in bars.

Three days and a dozen cans of Red Bull later I pulled into my driveway.

"My driveway," I said aloud. There was something gratifying to be able to say that.

Exhaustion was taking over, and I contemplated just walking in and collapsing on the carpet. I checked the clock on the U-Haul truck. Two o'clock, right on schedule. My organization was top-notch. The IKEA delivery company truck pulled onto my street moments later. They were right on schedule, too, thank goodness. I'd paid extra to have them deliver the living room set I'd purchased and to help me unpack my U-Haul. Sometimes I was pretty clever. Maybe Monroe had been right.

I made my way out of the U-Haul and met the movers at their truck. One guy was pretty muscular, easily over six feet tall with light brown hair and even lighter skin than mine. His partner was dark-skinned with a Mohawk. He came up to Muscular Guy's chest and looked like he'd have trouble lifting a sack of potatoes. It was an odd combination.

"You Davenport?" Muscular Guy asked, looking at his clipboard.

"Yes, that's me," I replied. He checked off a few things on the clipboard and motioned that he and his partner were ready to start.

I opened the front door, and they worked quickly to get things inside. Mr. Mohawk was lifting the big items with ease while Muscular Guy was trying to keep up. It was surprising to say the least. Mr. Mohawk stubbed his foot on his way back out to the truck. He yelled out from the pain and then had a woge into a Dickfellig, complete with a Rhino horn and everything. He shook off the woge quickly and resumed carting another large box inside. That would explain how he could carry this heavy stuff with ease. Muscular Guy was human from what I could tell. He struggled to carry most everything and Mr. Mohawk Rhino Guy kept shaking his head in aggravation.

The couch was set up, so I took advantage of sitting down for a moment. My eyes tried to close, but I fought to keep awake until the guys were done.

"So, is that all you needed?" Muscular Guy asked, setting the last box down in the living room.

"Yes, thank you. That's all I have so far," I replied and tipped them both graciously.

Once the front door was closed, I sank into the couch and fell asleep instantly.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

It was dark when I finally woke up. I had that moment of unfamiliarity, trying to recall where I was. The chain of events came back, and I opened my eyes, adjusting them to see through the shadows. I didn't have any lamps plugged in yet, but fortunately there were bulbs in the overhead lights. I flicked the switch and was greeted by the reminders of all the work I still had to do. Boxes were everywhere. Thank goodness I had most of this week off to settle in. There was much to do.

I located a few blubs and set up a lamp in the living room, then went outside and changed the porch light. I tried the switch again, peeking outside. All I saw was a whole lot of darkness. Crap. It wasn't the blub. I finally had my own porch, but no light. Well, at least I could still see in the daylight. I added fixing the porch light to my mental to-do list and walked back inside. With everything else on my list, it might take a while before I got to that one.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

Over the next two days I'd purchased a new mattress, kitchen appliances, bookshelves, and some other odds and ends. The house was starting to shape up. On the way home from my last shopping trip I'd found a local yoga studio within walking distance of my house. I was going to need it, because I was in dire need of some mental clarity.

I'd been putting off mounting the cuckoo clock, but I'd missed the recognizable ticking and chirping that I was used to hearing in the apartment back home. I unpacked it and went to work setting it in place. Hmm, it wasn't moving. I wound it like my grandmother had showed me how to do all those years ago. Still nothing.

"Oh, this is just fantastic." I sighed aloud. I hadn't planned for this.

Maybe I could fix it. I checked the back, shifting my eyes from one thing-a-ma-bob to the other doo-hickey. What would I even look for back here? I tested the winding again. I knew I was doing it right, but the hands remained still. Crap, if I'd killed this clock, my dad would have my head for sure. Finding a clock repairman was jumping to the top of my to-do list. Who knew if there was even anyone in Portland who specialized in that kind of thing?

Reaching for my laptop, I Google'd clock repair in Portland and came up with three results from the online Portland Yellow Pages. The first two were gimmicky. They were filled with advertising, photos, and empty words. The third was simply a name and phone number, followed by, 'No Timepiece Too Big or Too Small.' The name caught my eye. Monroe's Clock Repair. Could it really be? No, that would be too ironic. Regardless, I dialed the number and held my breath as I waited for the voice on the other end to answer.

"Monroe," the voice said. It sounded very much like Sweater Guy.

"Hi, I found your ad in the Portland Yellow Pages for clock repair. I have a cuckoo clock that's stopped working. Do you fix those?" I asked.

"No timepiece to big or too small," he replied, quoting his ad.

"Great! When can I schedule an appointment to stop by?" I asked, grabbing a pen.

"Oh, I work from home, so if you wanna come over today I'll take a look. Do you know what's wrong with it?" he asked. I grinned at the question. No, I wasn't a clockmaker.

"I just moved here, and it's been in the back of a U-Haul. When I got it out to mount it, there was no ticking and I checked to make sure it was wound. But nothing seems broken from what I can determine. It was my great-grandfather's, so I need to make sure it's taken care of." I stressed my concern. If anything happened to that cuckoo clock I'd never forgive myself.

"Well, you don't _wind_ a cuckoo," he replied slowly. "Did you check the cones?"

"Sorry, it's a shelf cuckoo," I said. Okay, I wasn't a clockmaker, but I knew that much. "I should've mentioned that at the beginning."

"Oh!" he replied brightly. "Yeah, well, that does make a difference. Come on by, and I'll check it out." He gave me the address at 418 Southwest Hamilton Street.

I thanked him and pressed the end call button on my phone. I pushed the negative thoughts about my clock aside and thought about the clockmaker instead. Could it really be Sweater Guy? I was giddy. This sounded like some cheesy, romantic comedy come to life!

* * *

A/N: 418 Southwest Hamilton Street is the actual house they used for Monroe's place on Grimm. (: Just a little bit of trivia there for ya. Hope you're enjoying so far. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. It's quite a bit longer!


	7. Chapter 7

**Just a note:** I'm trying to keep the story-line in tandem with the show. Chapter 1 started with Episode 1x04. (Lonelyhearts) Chapter 7 is roughly three days after Episode 1x09. (Of Mouse and Man) I can't promise how exact I can keep the two going, but that's my goal, so wish me luck. (:

* * *

**Chapter 7**

I took a quick shower and did my hair. If it was really Sweater Guy, I wanted to make a desirable impression. I found a low-cut, cream blouse to pair with a black skirt and my red heels. The blouse accentuated all my assets. I wore my oval, solitaire ruby necklace, which was my birthstone. My dad had bought it for me for my eighteenth birthday, and it was my absolute favorite. It hung on a sterling silver chain and added a hint of color. I finished off the ensemble with my red, wool jacket. The red highlights in my chestnut brown hair brightened with the jacket. I applied some make-up and a touch of red lipstick.

"Not too bad." I smiled as I commented at my reflection. "Not too bad at all."

I grabbed the storage box and headed for my car. I hummed Adele's 'Don't You Remember' as I programmed my GPS with the address. It wasn't too far away, but there were a few twists and turns. Once I reached Southwest Barbur Street, the rest was easy.

I turned on Southwest Hamilton Street and followed it to the fork in the road. The left of the fork had a row of houses while the right was a wooded area. Staying left, I kept watch of the house numbers. A gray mailbox with the number 418 on its side came into view. The house was smaller than the others surrounding it. It was bluish-gray with a wide porch and two large windows on the front. Wild, bare-limbed bushes sprang out on either side of the porch. They were hauntingly creepy. A pale yellow VW was parked in the driveway, and my heart skipped in my chest. It was Sweater Guy! The back left bumper was missing its yellow paint and was as gray as the mailbox. Poor little bug! I hadn't noticed it last time, but it was dark outside… And I was incredibly drunk. I couldn't forget about that, now could I?

I pulled in behind the VW and turned off the ignition. "Well, here goes nothing," I said aloud, checking myself in the visor mirror one last time before getting out of the car.

I walked up the porch steps, and set down my cuckoo clock beside the bicycle that was propped up by the left window. Knocking on the white door, I admired the stained glass panel on the front. Was it a wolf? That was different. It looked more like a family crest than a…

The lock turned and the door opened, startling me out of my thoughts. Sweater Guy was on the other side, wearing a white shirt and a gray sweater jacket over it. At least he'd stayed true to his nickname. He seemed taken aback, and then the woge occurred. Monroe's face contorted and his red eyes were fixed on my red jacket. Blutbad! Holy crap! My heart sank and I froze. His eyes met mine, burning red, but I didn't look away. The stained glass was more like a warning sign. It should've read, 'Beware of Wolf.'

"It is you!" I forced a smile, using the recognition to mask my shock of the woge. "How have you been, Sweater Guy?"

While I was very good at not reacting to Wesen changes, this one was the hardest yet. I couldn't believe Monroe was Wesen, let alone a Blutbad. I kept my fear down, but running and not looking back was at the forefront of my mind. Not that it would've mattered anyway if I did. He'd catch and kill me before I even got to the driveway. I tugged on the red jacket. Why did I have to wear red to a Blutbad's house? What a stupid decision!

How did I not know he was Wesen? I should've been more aware that night, instead of downing tequila with a stranger. But instead of paying attention like I should've been, I'd stupidly gotten drunk once the Blue Beard had left. If only I'd realized there were far worse things in that bar. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Monroe retracted after what seemed like forever. "R-Renée…?" he stammered out my name, finally replying. His deep, brown eyes replaced the red; those soulful eyes I remembered so well from the bar.

"Oh, good you remember me!" I forced myself to smile wider. "So, you're a clockmaker? I pegged you for a psychiatrist with how you let me ramble on that night at the bar."

Monroe laughed, but the red was making him twitch again. He had some abrasions above his eye and along his jawline. What had happened to him? Better yet, what had tried to get away from him? Maybe it was his last victim's attempt to escape before he'd eaten them.

"Are you all right?" I asked, pointing to his face. "Did you get in a fight saving another damsel in a bar?" I chuckled a bit more nervously than I wanted to let on.

"Oh this?" Monroe touched the cut by his chin. "Nah, just an accident on a job." Who knew clock repair was dangerous work? "So, umm, how did you find me?" he asked, smiling between the twitching.

"I was the one who called you about the cuckoo clock earlier today." I pointed down to the brown storage box beside me. "The shelf cuckoo clock," I corrected myself. "It was a twist of fate that your name came up when I searched online for clock repair," I added. And what a twist it had turned out to be. I kept my face smooth, concealing my inner thoughts.

"Oh, right. Shelf cuckoo." He scratched his head and let out a breath. "Yeah, there's like two or three of us repair guys in Portland." He rested his hand on the doorframe. "You know, you had good odds on finding me."

"When I saw the name 'Monroe' I was pleasantly surprised." Not as surprised as when I found out you were a monster. "If it wasn't you, then I was beginning to think that all Portland guys were named Monroe."

He laughed again, but he was still twitching. "So, you, umm, don't know what's wrong with it?" he asked again. "The clock, I mean?"

"Well, that's why I'm here," I replied. "I kind of need an expert."

Now I was invested in staying. Just great. It would be suspicious if I came all this way and then changed my mind. I reached in my jacket pocket for my keys, positioning my thumb over the panic button. Maybe if a neighbor heard the alarm they'd come find me, or what was left of me.

He looked at me again and idly shook his head. "Right, umm, of course." He seemed out of sorts. Out of sorts could be really bad.

We were still hovering on the porch. Monroe kept shifting his eyes back and forth from me to the jacket. This was not the impression I'd planned on making. I was so uncomfortable and vulnerable like this. I took in a breath and allowed a peaceful calm to wash over me. I had to do that from time to time. It was something I'd practiced over the years to get through the stresses of life and of what I knew. It helped today, but not very much.

"Please come inside," Monroe said finally, but he didn't sound too welcoming.

I held the keys tightly in my pocket as he lifted the box from the porch, and we walked inside his home. I let my breathing settle down, but my heart was still racing.

'Stay calm, Renée, just stay calm,' I chanted internally.

My eyes darted around the corners of the hallway, trying to associate my surroundings. To the left was the living room with a green tiled fireplace, there was a set of stairs that went to the second floor directly in front of me, and to the right had to be the workroom, which was where Monroe was carrying my cuckoo clock. It seemed like he lived alone. Let's hope there wasn't a pack of Blutbaden living here with him. My heart beat madly at the thought.

"I was surprised you took clients on such short notice," I commented, removing my jacket with quick precision and folding it along my arm. Maybe that would ease the situation.

He let out a short chuckle. "The perks of working from home." Monroe set my box on his workbench. He turned again and gave a slight sigh at the jacket. Even folded away it was still in plain sight. I wanted to toss it right out the nearest window.

"It must be nice setting your own hours," I said, making idle chatter. It was hard not to follow his eyes to my arm.

"May I take your… jacket?" he asked hesitantly.

I nodded silently, removing the keys from my pocket and handing it over. Monroe took it from me, holding it out in front of him like it was going to bite. He set it down in the living room on a cedar chest by the window. Turning back, he rubbed his hands vigorously as if the color had bled onto them. Okay, perhaps the term 'bled' was a poor choice of words.

I swallowed hard as he walked back toward me, my thumb still on the panic button. Oh, no… my red shoes and necklace! Well, I couldn't get rid of those. The blouse was too low to hide the necklace, so I tucked the ruby off to the side of my collar to cover it up. Maybe he wouldn't look down at the shoes. How much red was too much? I pursed my red lips together. Oh, no… red lipstick.

"So, let's see what you've brought me," Monroe said, seeming a bit calmer. He walked back to the workbench, put on his glasses, and opened the contents of the box.

His glasses gave him an air of sophistication that I hadn't seen in Sweater Guy before. I rather liked it. I tried to shake off the feelings as soon as they came about. He's a Blutbad, not Sweater Guy. Don't even think about it, Renée!

Monroe carefully lifted my cuckoo clock out of its box. "Dude, this is a beauty! An Emilian Wehrle Singing Bird! I haven't seen one of these in ages!" He was in his element now and his face lit up as he examined it. "You know, this isn't your run of the mill cuckoo clock."

Since my cuckoo was a shelf clock, it didn't have that bird house shape to it or those pine cones that were normally considered the cuckoo clock style. The square case was made of dark walnut, with ebony trim and gold accents. Perched in an archway on the top of the case was a realistic looking songbird with dark feathers except for a small plume of royal blue around its neck. On the hour the bird would come alive as it moved its head, beak, and tail, tweeting out its sweet, little song.

"So, is an Emilian Wehrle a good thing?" I asked. I didn't know the history of the clock or who made it. It was just a part of home to me.

"Really, you don't know?" He looked up from the clock and moved his glasses down his nose, staring at me above the rims. "You've got something rare here. This is a nineteenth century, Black Forest Clock. Wehrle was a highly reputable clockmaker of these types of time pieces in Furtwangen, Germany. Now this one has a very robust brass plate three train movement, the largest Emilian Wehrle ever made, actually. It's wound by a key with an eight day run, but you probably already knew that part." He grinned up at me. "You find these in, you know, collectors museums, but rarely do you get to see one up close." He was admiring it again, looking like a kid at Christmas. "You just don't get craftsmanship like this anymore, man." He shook his head. Monroe went back to surveying the wood carvings, making little noises here and there.

"I just hope it's fixable." While being here this close to a Blutbad still had me on edge, watching him admire my clock was intriguing.

"So, you said this belonged to your great-grandfather?" he asked, recalling our conversation on the phone.

"Yeah, it's been in my family for a while. I inherited it from my grandmother. The story goes that my great-grandfather was given this as a gift for saving a small child in Germany during WWI. The little boy's family took it off their wall and gave it to him as a token of their gratitude."

My grandmother loved to tell the story of her heroic father, but like with any family tale, you never knew how much truth there was to it. I liked to think it was one-hundred percent accurate.

Monroe smiled at the story. "Well, I'll do everything I can to fix it."

I relaxed a little, but it was against my better judgment. Out of all Wesen, Blutbaden scared me the most. Only a few lived to tell the tale of a Blutbad encounter. Back when we were teenagers, Chloe had pointed one out while we were shopping at the mall. The poor girl had almost had a heart attack right in the middle of the store. The Blutbad she'd spotted was in the firearms department of one of the stores. With his arms laden with tattoos and wearing camouflage dungarees, he'd reminded me of 'Rambo' meets 'Full Metal Jacket.' Full Metal Rambo had picked up on Chloe's scent almost immediately, since she was a rabbit Wesen, and he'd had a woge right in front of us. There was no soul in those red, crazy eyes of his, and the evil vibe he'd emitted had sent a cold chill down my spine. He'd practically chased us through the mall as we'd made a mad dash to get away. The guy hadn't seemed to care that he was in public, he was just deadlocked on Chloe. We had to get one of the mall cops involved before Full Metal Rambo had finally backed off, vanishing before he'd been caught.

After that I'd avoided any Blutbaden I came across, which thank goodness had only been a couple. I'd avoided them at least until now. I was in a Blutbad's home. Chloe would kill me if this guy didn't beat her to it.

Monroe turned to the back of the clock to inspect the mechanism. "The movement looks like it's all intact… Bellow system is in order," he continued. "But it looks like the cam wheel is jammed." Monroe said all this as if I would understand what he meant.

"Umm, can it be un-jammed?" I asked reluctantly. All this clock jargon was going over my head.

"Eh, not exactly." Monroe gave me an amused smile. "The wheel itself seems fine; it's the lever that needs to be replaced. I know a dealer I can get the part from. You said you were driving it cross country? It probably wedged itself in during the shuffle of the drive."

As Monroe described the mechanics, he gestured with his hands to demonstrate it wedging in. Just watching his hands move so animatedly was cute. I tried to shake the feelings aside, but I couldn't. Why did he have to be so darn cute?

"But you can fix it?" I asked, and he nodded assuredly. "I'm so relieved! I miss the chirping at home already. I feel kind of empty without it."

He smiled back at me. "I should be able to have it fixed within a week... or so."

"How much do you estimate the cost?" I asked.

"Hmm... It'll be like one-fifty for the lever," He touched his fingers as he spoke like he was calculating the totals together, "and around a hundred for the labor, so around two-fifty maybe?"

"That's fine with me," I replied, smiling. "Money is no object when it comes to this clock."

I was finally calming down. Monroe was becoming the guy I'd found so appealing in the Blue Moon Bar all over again. He'd stayed human most of our conversation, and I'd put my fear to rest, at least temporarily. I'd even let go of my panic button on my key ring.

Monroe continued to examine the back of my cuckoo. While he was engaged, I looked around his workroom. It was overflowing with gears, tools, and what-cha-ma-call-its. Who knew what they were all used for? His work bench had a large magnifying lens and various tools placed here in there. The work bench was piled with many things. How did he find what he needed in this disorder?

Clocks of all shapes and sizes hung on the bold, dark green, orange, and yellow striped walls of the workroom. One was even shaped like a steering wheel of a boat. I remembered seeing even more clocks in the living room when I'd first arrived. I had to suspect with being a clockmaker it came with the job. Down the hall more clocks came into view. They were definitely all over the place. One in particular caught my eye.

"You have a cuckoo, too?" I asked, pointing down the hallway to the clock with the hanging pine cones.

"Ah, so you noticed. I have a few others, you know, here and there. But that one's also a Black Forest cuckoo. It was made by Anton Schneider. Back in 1848 he started making clocks at his farm house in Schonach, Germany. It's nowhere near as awesome as yours, but it's a rare one, too. My uncle Jurgen got it at an estate sale for thirty bucks. It's worth thousands. When I was a kid I used to watch it for hours, trying to figure out how it worked. He'd let me, you know, look at the movements and I was just mesmerized by it. Probably one of the reasons I got into Horology." He chuckled. "Well, one of many." He seemed lost in thought as he paused. "Sorry, I'm rambling. You know, most people stop me before I get to tell this much of a story." He scowled slightly. When he said 'most people' it sounded like he was referring to someone in particular.

"No, please. I find it interesting the information you know on clocks," I replied, my eyes looking into his. "You've taught me more about mine today than I've ever known since I inherited it."

Monroe seemed grateful that someone wanted to listen. "So, how did your U.S. tour go?" he asked with a smile, changing the subject.

"Oh, it went well. I just finished my second tour, moving everything here on Friday."

"Whoa, dude." Monroe's eyes widened. "So you drove it twice?"

"Yeah." I nodded. Wow, I'd driven almost five-thousand miles over those trips. "The second time was a little worse with the U-Haul and my car attached."

"That's a whole lot of driving," he commented, putting his glasses away.

"Good for the soul, but unfortunately not so good for the clock." I frowned as I glanced back at my cuckoo.

He nodded. "Yeah, they're complex pieces, so you gotta be careful." You've also got to be careful who you choose as your clock repair guy. I sighed inwardly.

"Are you a native Portlandian?" I asked Monroe. I liked using that term.

"More or less." Monroe chuckled. "I mean, it feels like it sometimes."

"I hear that overcast is pretty much the norm around here," I said, while trying to understand his last response. Cryptic. "Not much sunshine, huh?"

"Sunshine is a rarity," he replied while shaking his head, "but you can always count on rain."

I sighed. "Note to self, invest in an umbrella." I was going to miss sunny days.

"Oh, there's no need for that," Monroe replied with a smirk. "Most of the rain is, you know, like a light drizzle. I mean, only tourists carry umbrellas, so you may as well start acting like you belong here."

No umbrellas? My grandma used to always remind me to grab an umbrella on rainy days. 'Sugar melts, so don't get wet,' she would say. Would drizzle be an exception to her rule?

"I'm still pretty lost around here to feel like I belong," I replied. "And I don't really know anyone yet. I need to invest in a tour guide or at least someone who can tell me the best coffee shops around." Crap, I was practically asking him to show me around town with a comment like that.

"Oh, I can tell you some great coffee shops, but my kitchen is one of the best," Monroe said, with a bit of pride in his voice.

"Is that so?" I asked curiously.

"I'm a coffee aficionado, myself. I do it all by hand. No instant coffee or pre-ground for me," he said, looking disgusted just thinking about it. "Starbucks is not real coffee, man. It's gotta be brewed just right. There's, like, an art to it, you know?" Apparently I'd found another interest of Monroe's. He went on for another few minutes about the art of coffee until he stopped mid-sentence, scratching his head. "There I go again, rambling away. You don't want to hear all that." Oh, but I did.

"No, you're not rambling," I assured him. "I'm definitely interested, and I agree with you. Sadly, I don't always get coffee that's made well. I've had to make do with Starbucks a time or two."

"There's nothing better than grinding your own," Monroe said, slapping his knee. "The taste just can't compare, man." Now I wanted coffee. Really good, Monroe-made coffee. Crap!

"Oh, look at the time." The clock on the boat steering wheel displayed quarter till noon. Had I really been here over an hour? Time flies when you're... Well, I wouldn't have described it as having fun. Honestly, I wasn't sure how to describe it. "I should probably go. I have some more errands I need to take care of today."

"I have your number on my cell, so I'll call you when your clock is ready." He gave me a warm, genuine, I'm-not-a-monster smile.

"I want to thank you again for taking care of this for me," I said as I inched toward the front door. "Since you're a cuckoo clock enthusiast yourself, I know it'll be in good hands."

Monroe stood up from the workbench chair to see me out. He walked up close toward me. Real close. My panic returned, but I bit back the fear, feigning a smile instead.

"I'll take good care of it." He reached for my shoulder, patting it a few times before resting his hand there. "I can promise you that."

"Good." I forced the practiced calm to wash me over so I wouldn't run, but it was all I could do not to scream.

"You all right?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he let go of my shoulder. "You look kinda tense."

"Oh, just the stress of moving here," I replied quickly. Maybe too quickly. "I still have so much to do."

Monroe chuckled. "Yeah, well I haven't had to deal with that in a long time."

"I'm really glad our paths crossed again," I said, smiling at him as I slowly backed up closer to the door. I was also glad he hadn't killed me, but I wasn't out of the house to celebrate just yet.

"Yeah, funny how the universe works," he replied. I perked up my ears at his use of the term 'universe.' I'd used that term far too often, but rarely had I heard it from anyone else.

"Oh, I need to grab my jacket," I said while opening the door. The chill was a quick reminder.

Monroe turned pale as sat back down in his workroom. "It's over there in the living room," he pointed, trying not to look in that direction as he remained seated.

I walked over to retrieve my jacket, putting it on swiftly. Monroe's eyes flashed a deep red, watching my jacket and twitching once more as he gripped the edge of his work table. I swallowed hard, but kept my face smooth. I held on to my keys tightly, thumb positioned over the panic button. I had to get out. There was no way I could stay in here with this much red on. He was trying to control it and I gave him credit for that, but he was a Blutbad, and that would win out eventually.

"Have a great day!" I gave a short wave while backing out the door.

Monroe's eyes were as red as the devil's as he held his hand up, motioning goodbye.

I quickly paced myself to the car. I wanted to run, but that might have set him off. I walked as briskly as I could without it looking abnormal. Once in my car, I locked the doors and took in a deep breath. Why, oh why did he have to be a Blutbad? I started the car and pulled out of the driveway, just trying to breathe normally again. Some romantic comedy this was turning out to be. It was more like a nightmare on Southwest Hamilton Street.

* * *

A/N: You'll notice the streets I use are real, so feel free to pull up Google maps and follow along. (:

I have a photo and youtube of Renee's clock on my profile, go take a look! (:


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

When I got home I took off my jacket and tossed it on a chair. I stared at it, aggravated at the whole situation. How did I miss this? A Blutbad… I rode with a Blutbad in his car? Had the intoxication on tequila really impaired my senses that badly? The thing that aggravated me the most was that I was still attracted to him. He talked and looked like Sweater Guy. And that hint of cologne was in the house when I walked in. What was it? Aspen? I couldn't figure it out.

Being on my own felt really lonely all of a sudden. I texted Chloe that I missed her. If only she were here to talk to. No, it was best not to tell her what happened today. She'd worry herself silly if she knew about this. I'd just have to keep this to myself for now.

I shook the thoughts aside and started working on the house. My job was beginning Friday, and I had to use the time I had wisely.

Later on that evening, I got a phone call from Jack. I let it go to voicemail as I scowled. Persistent bastard. I was lonely, but not that lonely.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

It was still way too early for bed, so I checked in on the yoga studio. I could use some Zen time to clear my head. I called to confirm the class schedule and they had one beginning in time for me to get dressed and walk over.

I replayed the meeting with Monroe in my head as I walked to the studio. A Blutbad clockmaker. Was it a ruse? Monroe didn't seem menacing, just the opposite actually. If he was going to kill me, he had plenty of chances to have done it. So I added myself to the list of the few to survive a Blutbad encounter. I didn't feel too honored.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: So from this chapter and beyond be prepared to see *lots* of music references.  
Also, like I said before, the places are real, so have fun exploring Google Maps and follow along. (;

* * *

**Chapter 9**

Two days after my reunion with Sweater Guy, the phone rang.

"Hi, this is Monroe," the voice on the other end said. "Umm... the clockmaker," he added, almost as an afterthought. I smiled in spite of myself. Had he said it to remain professional, or so I wouldn't confuse him with all the other Monroe's I knew? Either way, it was cute.

"Yes, hello," I replied warmly. "I didn't expect a call from you until later on next week."

"Well, I pulled some strings with a dealer, and instead of waiting for the part by mail, I just drove there and picked it up."

"Oh, where was the dealer?" I asked as I folded my legs under me while I sat on the couch, looking through paint samples.

"Uhh... Seattle?" He sounded guilty.

"Seattle?" I gasped out. "That's like three hours away!"

Monroe let out a chuckle. "Says the cross country traveler."

"I really appreciate the effort," I said quickly. "I really do!"

"The cuckoo clock is working fine and dandy now," he proudly said. "I took the liberty of doing a little maintenance on the ins and outs, and finished with a wood polish."

"Thank you for the extras." He'd really gone above and beyond. "I'll be glad to pay you for the attention to detail and the travel expense."

"Dude, no need," he quickly replied. "It's totally on the house!" Monroe sounded so warm and genuine, so different than a typical Blutbad. Not that I'd ever really met any formally, before now.

"When would be a good time to pick it up?"

"Oh, I'm here all day. That's the perks of working at home, you know?"

"Well, I have a couple of errands to run this morning. They're close by, so how about if I stop by at eleven o'clock?" I glanced at the time on my cell phone. It was nearing nine o'clock already.

"Sure," he said. "Eleven o'clock will be fine. I'll be waiting."

As I grabbed my keys, I reached for my red jacket then dropped it immediately. I definitely needed to avoid red at all costs! I searched the closet and found my black leather jacket. While putting it on, I made my way to my Malibu. I was excited about my clock, but that fear returned. I was going to go back to a Blutbad's home. I'd survived the first time, and I was going in for a second round. The reckless feelings were brewing under the surface. I hummed the lyrics to Britney's 'Toxic' on the drive.

"_There's no escape.__  
__I can't wait.__  
__I need a hit.__  
__Baby, give me it.__  
__You're dangerous,__  
__I'm lovin' it…"_

I stopped at the bank, so I could pay for the clock repair, and then picked up a few odds and ends I needed from the store. After mentally checking off my to-do list, I headed to Monroe's house.

"Monroe, the clockmaker," I said aloud in my car. "Hero or villain?" I still didn't have an answer yet. Either way he made me smile. A Blutbad that made me smile. What a twist of fate!

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

The drive was shorter this time since I had a better sense of where I was turning. I pulled in the driveway behind Monroe's VW and glanced at my clock radio. Two minutes till eleven. Good. It was best to be punctual when meeting a clockmaker. All those clocks would let him know if I was late.

As my recklessness flourished, I knocked on the door. Monroe answered, looking relieved that I'd donned my black leather jacket instead of the red one from our last encounter. He was wearing a forest green plaid shirt with a mint green undershirt poking through the top. The colors complemented each other perfectly. My eyes moved down to his dark blue denim jeans and tan boots. I could smell that familiar hint of cologne. I tried again to recognize the brand. Brut? That would fit a Blutbad, for sure.

"Hey!" he said and I looked back up. "Please come on in!" He motioned me inside with a wave of his hand. He definitely liked to talk with his hands.

Monroe offered to take my jacket, this time not seeming to fear it as I handed it to him. I'd worn my black, boat-neck knitted sweater and denim jeans, since the weather called for a cold front. I wasn't prepared for this cooler weather. I probably needed to buy a warmer coat, but I kept wearing jackets out of habit.

"Right this way." There seemed to be a spring in his step as he directed me back to the workroom area of his home. My cuckoo clock was sitting in the center of his workbench; its dark wood ornaments had a glossy sheen from the polished exterior. Even the gold accents sparkled brighter than I'd ever seen them before.

"Oh, it's wonderful!" I said in awe, taking a moment to admire how much work Monroe had put into it before turning back. "Thank you so much!"

"All in a day's work. Well, a few days in this case." Monroe's smile brightened as he leaned against the door facing. "That's the thing with these kinds of clocks; you know a little TLC goes a long way." He straightened back up and moved over to my cuckoo. "Lemme set this thing off, so you can see it in action." He moved the minute hand of the clock until my bird started tweeting away. Just the sound relaxed me instantly.

"Oh, that's such a wonderful sound to hear again," I sighed happily.

"And I have something else for you." Monroe's eyes became wide with excitement. "Stay here!" He vanished down the hallway from the workroom into what looked like the kitchen.

I stepped away from the workroom and surveyed the living room while I waited. He was a collector of more than just clocks. Bookshelves lined with various titles were on different walls. A telescope was sitting by an open window. And what was this? A cello? How did I miss this before? It was propped up in its stand next to the fireplace. All the while this decor didn't fit a Blutbad. No animal heads on the walls or gruesome artworks of blood and death that I would stereotype in a Blutbad's home. No, this house had a museum of treasures, holding knowledge and things I could spend hours looking over.

Footsteps in the hallway halted my thoughts and I darted back into the workroom. Monroe had returned with two steaming, blue coffee mugs. "The best in Portland," he grinned, handing one of them to me.

Accepting strange drinks from a Blutbad, yeah that was smart. Regardless, I took the mug from his hands. He seemed genuine, but could I trust him? I was just overreacting, right? I doubted my words as I said them in my head. Little Red Riding Hood probably thought the same thing and look what that had gotten her.

"Thank you," I said. The scent hit me first, and then I sampled a taste. The coffee was delicious! If it was poisoned, it was hidden well. I took a larger sip. These flavors were like nothing I'd ever had at home. Robust just didn't do this justice. I was in java heaven.

"I use a manual Burr Mill grinder just to get the right consistency. Guatemalan Highlands coffee beans have this rich flavor. You know, most go with a simple French Roast bean, but you gotta live a little. I use the French press to …" he trailed off again as if he was expecting an interruption. "Sorry, I get carried away about coffee." He looked down into his coffee mug.

"I think it's amazing you know so much to make a delightful cup of coffee like this," I said encouragingly.

He lifted his head back up and gave me a half-smile. I finished my cup as he told me more about the origins of the French press and where to shop for the best coffee beans. This guy was like listening to Cliff Clavin from Cheers. He never faltered on his fact telling, and the twinkle in his eyes as he spoke had me grinning. I couldn't help it. Whomever it was that kept chastising him about his knowledge needed a kick in the rear. This man was brilliant. I could listen to him all day long.

Monroe pointed at my empty mug. "You know, if you ever want another cup, you have my number." His eyes widened again. "Err… I mean, since you enjoyed it and all. I could show you how I make it. It's really the process that brings the flavor out, you know?"

I gave him a flattering smile. "I may have to take you up on that offer sometime."

He reached for my mug and held it for a moment next to his own, looking as though he was contemplating what to say next.

To keep it from being too awkward, I reached into my bag for my wallet. "So, how much do I owe you for your work on my cuckoo clock?"

"Oh, uh, how much?" He seemed to come out of his thoughts and looked up from the mugs. "The part turned out to be sixty, and labor didn't take as long as I thought it would. I told you the polish, travel, and maintenance was on the house. So…a hundred and we'll call it even."

"Just a hundred?" There was easily five-hundred dollars worth of work, counting the freebies. "That's definitely lower than I was expecting. With any place else I'd pay three times that." I raised an eyebrow. "You sure that's enough to cover everything?"

"Yeah..." Monroe nodded, but he knew I wasn't completely convinced. "I'm serious, a hundred is fair." He gave me a warm smile then turned to set the coffee mugs down on his desk. "It was worth getting to see an amazing clock like this," he added as he turned back toward me.

"Okay, if you're absolutely certain." I reached into my wallet, pulling out the cash I'd withdrawn from the bank, and laid it in his palm. "I've missed the sound of that clock so much. I'm delighted to have it back!"

Monroe smiled. "I aim to please!" He moved back over to the workbench and started packing the cuckoo clock.

I watched him intently, humming to myself as he meticulously swathed the clock in bubble wrap to secure it well before lifting it into the box I'd brought it in.

Monroe stopped abruptly, jerking his head in my direction. "What's that song you're humming?" he asked with a concerned look on his face.

I froze like a deer in the headlights. I had a terrible habit of humming songs that related to what I was thinking about. Most times I was conscious of it, but sometimes I didn't even realize I was doing it. I'd done the same thing with humming 'Freebird' during my drunken encounter with Monroe. Earlier I'd joked to myself about Little Red Riding Hood. Yeah, it had to be _that_ song I was humming. Damn you, Sam the Sham…

I masked my panic before he could smell it on me. "Oh, just something that was on the radio on the way here," I replied, coolly.

Monroe's eyes stayed on mine, almost as if he was trying to read my thoughts. He knew what he'd heard. Blutbaden had an enhanced sense of hearing.

I tried to distract his train of thought. Faking a smile, I asked, "Do you think there's enough bubble wrap to keep the clock safe on the drive home? I'm a tad paranoid now after what happened."

My question seemed to shake him from his thoughts. "Oh yeah, nothing is gonna happen to it, you know, as long as you drive safe." He finished packing the box and walked back over to me. "No more long distance trips for a while, dude, and that cuckoo will last a lifetime." He smiled and placed a hand on my shoulder. His hand was warm and comfortable this time. I couldn't help but smile in return as the moment lingered just a little longer than it probably should've.

"Hopefully I won't have to do any more moving," I replied and Monroe nodded approvingly. I went to retrieve the box and his hand dropped to his side. With box in tow, I made my way to the front door.

Of the Wesen I'd met, their personalities had matched their creature sides fairly well. But this Monroe guy just didn't fit the profile of a Big Bad Wolf. Well, unless he was wearing a 'sheep suit.' Perhaps Sweater Guy was sporting a wool sweater at the bar after all. Best not think about that or I'd be humming the song again.

"I really do owe you one. Well, now two." My thoughts lingered on that night at the Blue Moon Bar. "I know you aren't charging me nearly enough for this," I said with a wink.

"Just think of it as a 'Welcome to Portland' discount," he grinned.

"Ah, discount. Okay, then I'll accept that."

We stood, hovered at his door and there was a moment of awkward silence. It seemed we both wanted this to last longer, but the clock was repaired, and there was really no reason to stay. Besides, the box was getting heavy, and I was moving it back and forth between my arms.

"Jacket!" Monroe recalled as he held up a finger.

"Yes, that would come in handy," I chuckled.

Monroe crossed over to the living room, retrieved my jacket from the cedar chest, and returned quickly. I set the box down and he held it open for me, sliding it up my arms. He was back to keeping chivalry alive.

"Thank you," I said. "I would've hated to have left it behind."

"Yeah, that would've been bad." Monroe raised his eyes up briefly like he was thinking about something. "Hmm, then you would've had to come back here and get it." He frowned slightly.

I picked up the box from the floor. "Thank you again for everything."

Out of nowhere Monroe asked, "Umm, are you a fan of classical music?"

Okay this was random, but I'd play along. "Yeah, I enjoy a variety of music. Classical is definitely a favorite of mine. I've played the violin for years."

The mention of my violin seemed to perk up his ears, and there was a brief flash of red in his eyes. But this time the red seemed to signify excitement of a different nature. They quickly went back to a mahogany brown, matching the door I was standing by.

Monroe hesitated a bit, like he was contemplating his next words. He finally said, "The Oregon Symphony is playing Brahms' 'German Requiem' at the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall this weekend. I wouldn't normally go by myself, but, you know, I mean, if it sounds interesting to you..." He drew in a breath. "Well, umm, perhaps you'd, you know, like to join me… maybe?" His eyes locked with mine, widening as he awaited my reply.

Wow, that was a whole lot of stammering. Monroe didn't strike me as the type that went out much. From the look in his eyes he seemed a little surprised at himself that he'd asked me out. That was what he was doing, right?

"I love Brahms." I grinned as wide as his eyes. I toned the grin down a bit and added, "You have my number, so please call me with the details and we can meet there."

Hopefully I didn't sound too eager, although I really was. Monroe was intriguing me, and I enjoyed a little danger. Sometimes I enjoyed it too much. I was having my own kind of woge. My reckless nature tended to surge unexpectedly, and with it my common sense went out the proverbial window. So if this wolf in sheep's clothing wanted to spend more time with me, I was happy to oblige. All my fears were replaced by recklessness instantly.

"I could pick you up," Monroe countered, shoving his hands in his pockets.

I pondered that offer only briefly. 'Okay, Mr. Blutbad, let's not push it. I can't have you knowing where I live,' I said internally. I was reckless, but not entirely stupid.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to be a burden," I replied aloud as I shook my head. "This will give me a chance to acquaint myself with Portland some more. I could definitely use the practice with these roads."

Seeming to have no further rebuttal to my response, he replied, "Okay then. Cool. I'll call you with the time and, you know, we can meet there."

"Sounds like a plan, I look forward to it!" I beamed. "I should really get going. I have the perfect place picked out for my cuckoo clock and I'm eager to get it mounted on its shelf."

Monroe was sporting a silly grin. "Right, well drive safe, you know, with the clock, and I'll see you this weekend for Brahms."

He opened the door for me, and I slowly walked to my car, setting the box down gently to open the passenger door. After I locked it securely with the seat belt, (I wasn't taking any chances.) I closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. Monroe stood by his front door, still grinning. I waved goodbye and backed out of the driveway and onto the street. As I drove away, I couldn't stop smiling. I had a date with a clockmaker. A Blutbad clockmaker. Oh, this was rich. But what the heck was I getting myself into?

* * *

Thanks so much for continuing to read. I'm really enjoying creating this story. (:


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Lavender was my favorite color, and my bedroom walls were getting the full treatment today as I painted on the light purple hue. The house was really looking like a home now. I'd been painting all morning with colors ranging from a soft mint green in the kitchen, to a robin's egg blue in the bathroom.

The living room had been painted nimbus cloud gray with white trim earlier this week. The gray color on the walls matched Portland's sky pretty well. I hadn't seen the sunshine since I'd moved here. Clouds were becoming my new normal.

The gray walls matched the light blue and gray plush carpeting and the stone that was mixed in with the red bricks in the fireplace. The blue in the carpet was the perfect shade to compliment my persian blue couch and matching armchairs that set in the center of the room across from the fireplace. Persian blue drapes hung on either side of the picture window in front and on the two windows in the back, spreading the color around. Overall, I'd kept the decor clean, yet modern, with a dash of homey comfort for good measure. It was a winning combination.

In front of the couch was a mission oak coffee table with the same dark finish as my cuckoo clock. It had a matching end table positioned between the couch and one of the chairs. A silver lamp with a gray shade set on top. The white ceiling had an overhead lighting system that could be adjusted with a remote or the light switch by the front door, which was a bit gadgety, but I appreciated the convenience of mood lighting at my fingertips.

There was a large bookshelf with the same dark finish on the wall near the entryway to the kitchen. My books were meticulously organized, and a few pictures of friends and family were placed between the bookends. A second large bookshelf stood along the far wall behind the couch, which was next to where I'd mounted my cuckoo clock. It held the rest of my books along with my collection of CDs and DVDs. My stereo was positioned on the center shelf with Bose speakers on either side. The speakers were pricey, but the sound quality was amazing and worth every penny.

A dark oak entertainment center set angled off to the right of the couch, which held a TV that was larger than I needed. It was the brand that Jack had pined over. Oh, he'd spit nails if he knew I'd recently purchased it. I was half-tempted to send him a cell phone picture along with an emoticon of a smiley sticking his tongue out. But no, I'd keep my Karma intact.

Below my TV was a Blu-ray player and my DVR. I loved my DVR and couldn't live without it. I didn't watch as much television as I'd used to, but I recorded everything and watched it later. My favorite show was _Jeopardy_, which I never missed an episode of. Thank goodness I didn't have to share my DVR space anymore. I added that joy to my 'Why Living Alone is Awesome' list.

The only piece of art I had up so far was my print of Josh Gilbert's _Gray Guitar_. It was inspired by Picasso's _The Old Guitarist_, as well as the lyrics of Counting Crows' 'Mr. Jones.' Music and art combined together was a match made in heaven. I'd fallen in love with it, and the colors worked well in the living room, with the red accentuating the red brick in the fireplace, pulling it all together. I had a few other pieces, but I'd have to put them up later.

The living room flowed into the dining room area which was divided only by where the carpeting ended and the dark maple floors began. The floors matched the dark wood of the oak in the dining room table and the matching hutch. I loved dark wood; it was warm and rich, and it looked really good with the gray. The only light wood I had on display was my Louisville Slugger bat, which was mounted near the hallway leading to my bedroom. It was my small reminder of home.

There was a second floor, a finished basement, and an attached garage I hadn't touched yet. Needless to say, I had plenty of space here. Perhaps too much space for one person.

My cell phone rang while I was applying the white paint on one of the bedroom baseboards, startling me out of my skin. My hand slipped up the wall, trailing white paint along with it. I scowled and went over to the phone, pressing the speaker phone button with the edge of my finger that had the least amount of paint on it.

"Hello?" I sweetly answered, trying to hide my annoyance.

"Hey, Renée!" Monroe's voice echoed in my bedroom. "So, did you get the clock mounted?" he asked.

My annoyance faded immediately. "Yes, last night," I replied cheerfully, while trying to fix my wall. "It's ticking away as we speak." It was the first night in Portland that I'd slept to the familiar sounds of the cuckoo. It lulled me to sleep and I felt almost normal again.

"So... I have the 411 on the symphony," Monroe began, sounding excited. "It's this Saturday evening at seven-thirty. You, uh, still wanna go, right?" His excitement was replaced by worry creeping up in his voice.

"Yes, I definitely want to go." Ever since he'd mentioned it I could think of nothing else. Jack wouldn't have been caught dead at a symphony. If the attire didn't include a baseball cap, he wasn't interested.

"Great! You wanna grab dinner beforehand?" he asked. "You could meet me here and we could take one car. Or... I could just pick you up and make it easier." His voice went deeper on that last sentence.

It was obviously bugging him that I wouldn't tell him where I lived. I wanted to, but my mind kept going back to that Blutbad in the mall when I was with Chloe. That evil face was all I could think about and I shook my head, trying to erase the image from my mind.

"Dinner sounds like a great idea," I replied warmly, discarding my thoughts. "I'll meet you at your place so we can carpool." That was a good compromise. Perhaps he wouldn't press the issue on coming here that way.

"Renée, you know you trusted me to take you to your hotel. I can pick you up at your place." He had an authority to his voice that I hadn't heard from him before. "Like I said, it'll be easier."

"Umm," I stammered a moment. He had a point. He had been an absolute gentleman when I was in a vulnerable position that night at the Blue Moon Bar. But if I had known he was a Blutbad back then, I wouldn't have even talked to him. Oh, I was so torn.

"You still there?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah, I'm here." If he wanted to know where I lived, he could just Google me. No one was completely hiden anymore, anyway. "Okay, pick me up at my place." My stomach still flipped as the words came out. I gave him the address.

"Great! I'll stop by around five o'clock." His smile permeated through the phone "That should give us plenty of time to dine and then make the concert." He had my address and he had won.

"Can't wait!" I made my voice sound as sweet as possible, even though I was close to being ill.

"See ya then," he replied and hung up.

Oh my. He was coming here. What was I thinking? But he had a way of convincing me to do things I normally wouldn't.

"Hero or villain?" I asked aloud. There was no sense worrying about that question now. Right now I had a date this weekend. Well, Monroe hadn't called it a date, but it was as close to a date as I'd had in years.

_"There's a wolf at your door,__  
__He says he's playing for keeps..."_

I hummed to myself as I went back to painting the bedroom.

* * *

A/N: My profile has a link to a photo of Josh Gilbert's _Gray Guitar_. It's awesome, go have a look-see!


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The little clock in the bottom corner of my work computer was taunting me. I was willing it to move faster, but it was like time was standing still today. I had a hair and nail appointment along with shopping to do after work, and I was impatient.

"You look like you're hard at work," Daniel, my new co-worker, said as he walked into my office for the fourth time today. He flashed me a fall catalog smile. "Just a few hours left, and you'll have survived your first day here."

"Uh-huh..." I nodded, half listening as I looked back at my screen.

"Got any plans this weekend?" he asked, leaning against my desk.

Daniel was the office 'hottie.' He had a boy next door face and a Calvin Klein everything else to go with it. From talk around the water cooler Daniel had been with at least every girl at the bank, sometimes twice. He was about as genuine as a three dollar bill. I was new, so I was getting all the attention, much to everyone's chagrin. Daniel had been chatting me up all day, much to my chagrin.

"I have a date tomorrow for the symphony," I replied, not looking up.

"Ah, that classical crap? Booor-ing," he replied with a laugh. Yeah, he was a real tactful guy. Jack would've liked him immediately. "Why don't you ditch the orchestra, and come out to the Trailblazers game with me? I have a spare ticket. They're courtside," he said. Tall, dark, and handsome was nice, but tall, dark, and arrogant was not cute at all.

"How about I get back to work and you do the same," I replied flatly.

"Your loss," Tall, Dark, and Arrogant scoffed and walked off. I shook my head. If that was a loss then… I sighed. He wasn't even worth the snarky comment.

Time seemed to move as slow as molasses as I worked on a PowerPoint for the first training I had coming up. I was adapting well to my new position, but I was unfocused today. It was probably not the best way to be the first day on the job. Overall, I was enjoying my new position, well, except for Daniel. Fortunately, I wouldn't have to work directly with him all the time. My eyes moved down to the clock again. I swear it was going backwards.

I sighed once more and gazed out the window behind me. My trusty Malibu was in sight. "I'll be there soon, girl," I said to it as I turned back to my computer screen.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

As soon as the clock turned five, I dashed out the door to the parking lot. I hopped in my car, setting the GPS toward the nail salon. I had a much deserved mani-pedi scheduled. The nail stylist pressed me to go with red nail polish, but I talked her out of it. I still had no clue the ratio of red to Blutbad. Was there a chart for these things? Regardless, I couldn't risk ruining the evening by setting Monroe off with red nails. Living through my first date was a priority, so red of any kind was definitely off the list. I opted for silver polish, since I wasn't sure exactly what I was wearing. Silver would complement most anything.

The hair appointment was fairly quick, just a trim and a wash. Today I just needed the pampering. I made my way across town to a little boutique I'd found online. The nerd that I was, I'd researched what to wear to a symphony on E-How, and the consensus was a little, black dress. Classic. The boutique ought to have something that would fit the bill.

A girl in her early twenties waved as I walked in the shop. Her light brown hair hung in a mess of curls over her shoulders, and her chubby cheeks held a planted smile on her face.

"Hi there, how can I help ya?" she asked cheerily as I surveyed the store.

"Well, I was hoping I could find a little, black dress." I chuckled. It sounded more cliché than classic once it came out of my mouth.

"Ah, got a big date?" she asked, still smiling.

"I'm going to the symphony on Saturday," I said, trying not to sound too posh.

"Ooh, that is a big date!" she exclaimed and her face morphed into a squirrel. "I've got just the thing!"

She headed to the back area labeled 'stock room' above it and reappeared with a black dress that looked like something out of _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. I was in love!

"Oh my, it's perfect!" I raved and she motioned me to the fitting room to try it on.

"I guessed your size… six right?"

I sighed. "Yeah, most of the time." It usually was when I wasn't drowning my sorrows in ice cream over the Jack situation. Hopefully this turn of events would have me in better spirits, and I could leave the memories of Jack behind for good.

Once the dress was on, I admired myself in the mirror. Move over Holly Golightly! The fabric hugged my curves perfectly. There was a large, black bow that cinched the waist, which was flirty. The neckline dropped a little lower than I would've liked, but I filled it out well. It also dipped quite a ways down the back. Overall, it was quite elegant. I had a simple tear drop necklace and matching earrings at home that would go well with the dress and the fingernails. My strappy black heels would work out fine, too. (That would save me some money.) Now I needed a clutch to round out the ensemble.

I walked out and the Squirrel Girl squealed with delight.

"Your date is going to howl!" she exclaimed. Oh, if she only knew.

I asked about clutches, and she located a black and silver one from the shelf behind her that brought everything together.

"Oh, and I have a surprise for you!" She grinned and pulled out a hair pin, ornamented with silver flowers and faux diamonds. It was magnificent. She put it up to my hair and I looked at my reflection in the mirror on the counter beside me. The silver had a nice contrast to my dark hair. Squirrel Girl smiled. "It goes with the dress, no extra charge."

"You really don't have to do that," I said. "But thank you!"

Her squirrel features came out again and her smile widened. "I've been storing it here for a while, but it's calling out your name." She wrapped the hair pin in some tissue paper. I changed clothes and paid for the dress and clutch.

"I want to thank you again for the hair pin," I said amiably. "It's gorgeous."

"And so are you!" She beamed at me. "Have a great time tomorrow on your date!"

I needed the confidence boost today. After Jack had cheated on me, I felt like I'd lost my sex appeal. Squirrel Girl's compliment renewed my spirits and I felt like a million bucks by the time I'd left. I headed home with a spring in my step. Tomorrow was going to be fantastic!

* * *

A/N: I have a pic of Renée's dress inspiration on my profile. Check it out if you're interested. (:

Thanks again for reading. I love every comment, it really means a lot!


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The next morning I was singing Blink 182's 'First Date' and moving about the house like I was on cloud nine. I'd finished cleaning, and now that I had all the painting done downstairs, the furniture was back in place. I'd even hung a few mirrors and artwork while I was at it.

My mind was in a flurry about my date tonight. Everything I needed to get ready was set out for later that evening. I had it all planned out so I wouldn't be late.

Monroe called again to confirm everything. "So, are we still on for me picking you up at five o'clock?" he asked, emphasizing the part of picking me up.

"Yes, that still works fine for me," I replied, glancing at my dress on the bed. "Looking forward to tonight!"

"Me too." I could envision his smile lighting up the room. "See you this evening."

I was looking forward to going to a symphony, but I was still nervous of Monroe knowing where I lived. I kept telling myself tonight was going to be fantastic, but the negative thoughts kept ruining my cheery mood. Hero or villain? The question wouldn't leave my mind. All these feelings about Monroe had my brain tied in knots. I needed to do what I'd always done when I was torn. I called Chloe.

"RENÉE!" Chloe screamed through the phone when I dialed the familiar number on my cell.

"Chloe! I miss you so much!" I replied, reclining on my couch. With everything from the move to Monroe I'd been neglecting my best friend. Her voice immediately relaxed me. We'd had a few quick phone calls, random texts, and Facebook comments, but I really hadn't sat down and just chatted with her since the move. I'd been avoiding calling her most of all due to Monroe. She was gonna rip me a new one.

"Have the cell towers been broken in Portland?" she asked, sarcastically.

"It's been a crazy transition," I replied and continued with making excuses about the time zone difference. I was bad at excuses when it came to Chloe.

"Yeah, yeah," she said dourly. "But we're talking now so all is forgiven."

I updated her on the road trip, work, my new office, and all the things that were easy to talk about. Then the subject turned to Jack.

"Oh, you gotta hear this one. Jack had the audacity to call me the other day," she said with an air of disgust. "He complained that you won't answer his calls and wanted me to give him the play-by-play of what you're doing."

"Chloe, what did you say to him?" I asked, worried but interested.

"I told that good-for-nothing fuckwad that if he really cared so much, then maybe he should've kept his dick in his pants and been with you instead of being off with some tramp." That was actually mild for her. Surprisingly she hadn't said more.

"Thanks, Chloe. I'm sorry he called you. He's been texting and calling me, but I just keep deleting the messages."

"Good for you. He's such an ass!" Chloe said adamantly. "Keep deleting them, and I'll be happy to keep telling him off when he calls me."

"God, I miss you." I chuckled. "You should've road tripped with me. I needed Thelma on my adventure."

She laughed. "You needed some time to yourself, and you've always found that on the road. This trip was more than just a career change for you." I knew what she was referring to. I had a direct link to her brain. It was part of our BFF connection.

"Portland has more here than in Louisville," I replied. "It's difficult keeping it a secret."

"Really? A lot more?" she asked, intrigued. "Have you seen a Karnickelhöhle?"

"Oh yeah, and a few others I haven't seen before. It's been interesting."

"Just be safe," she said, sounding concerned. "If there's more, then that means there's a better chance for some dangerous ones to be lurking about."

"I always am," I assured her, but in the back of my mind I thought about Monroe again. He was as dangerous as they came.

Chloe changed the subject. "Sooo... Miss Single, what do the Portland boys look like?" she asked in a sing-song voice and I giggled.

"Bearded," I replied, and then it was her turn to laugh.

"Are we talking Brawny paper towel guy bearded? Because that's just sexy!"

"Pretty close." Monroe probably had a red plaid shirt just like the Brawny man's. Well, maybe not red.

"So, have you had a date yet?" she asked cautiously. Even though we had no problem calling Jack names, she knew the break-up was still touchy with me.

"I've had offers from a few arrogant guys that were full of themselves more than anything," I replied then added, "but I'm starting to hang out with someone." This was true. Monroe and I were hanging out tonight, since he hadn't called it a date. Hanging out was juvenile, but it fit.

"Are we talking hanging out… or _hanging out_?" she asked, putting emphasis on the second part in the obvious sense of the meaning.

"Just hanging out," I said quickly, emphasizing the former of the two.

"Oh," she sounded disappointed. "Well, I need details. What's he look like? Job, age, sign?" He looked like a wolf when he was emotional. Yeah, this was going to go well.

"He's really tall, like six-foot-three or four, with curly, dark brown hair and matching beard, and these amazing dark brown eyes."

"Sounds dreamy so far," Chloe said.

"He's a clockmaker," I continued.

"For real?" she asked. "People really do that for a living?"

I had to laugh. "Yes there are actually clockmakers out there," I responded, taunting her.

"So… age and sign?"

"I don't know," I replied. "Age hasn't really come up."

"What? Madame Zelda hasn't done his chart yet? Are you kidding me? I knew you like a week and you had my whole star chart and numerology numbers done for me."

I hadn't really thought about that until Chloe mentioned it. It was true I loved the supernatural. I believed in astrology and the occult, since I'd already seen things out there that no one else could see. If those things were real, perhaps so was everything else. I remembered people by their sign and rattled off birthdays of people I hadn't seen in years. It was so unlike me not to have found out Monroe's birthday. But I was preoccupied with the fear of being eaten throughout parts of our encounters.

"Are you okay?" she asked, since I was silently contemplating. "He's not a geezer or something where you're afraid to ask his age, is he?"

"Oh, no. He's older, but not creepy old or anything," I said and laughed. "And he's incredibly smart. Like Ken Jennings smart. Oh, and he plays the cello."

"A guy with some class for a change, nice!" she said with a smile in her voice.

"He sounds really good, doesn't he?" I asked. I wanted to talk to her about the issue, but was still afraid.

My friend knew me well enough to add, "But…?"

"Well…" I hesitated.

"Oh, spill it, Renée! What's wrong with him? Is he terminal? Does he have six toes?"

I was silent.

"Nooo… What _kind_ is he Renée?" My friend had a direct link to my brain, too. She knew why I was silent. "It's not a Lausenschlange is it? A Klaustreich?" Chloe was naming off more Wesen, and I hadn't responded. "Are you still there?" Worry coated Chloe's words. "I know it must be something bad if you aren't telling me."

I took in a deep breath and then let the bomb drop. "Blutbad." Even though I quickly held the phone away from my ear, her screaming was still audible. When the noise faded, I put my ear back to the phone.

"Renée! No, you're pulling my leg right?" she hissed. "Is Ashton Kutcher at my door? You can't be fucking serious!"

"I'm serious," I simply replied.

"Renée, I love you like the sister I never had! (She had three sisters she hated.) You can't do this!" Chloe pleaded on the phone.

"I know, but, Chloe, he's not like any typical Blutbad out there." I tried to defend him. "This one isn't like Full Metal Rambo."

"Of course, because he wants you to think that he's Mr. Perfect," she replied sharply. "It's probably a game to him. He's luring you in, and when you least expect it, it's dinner time!" I imagined her stabbing her cutting board with a knife for effect.

"Or maybe he's just different," I encouraged.

"Renée, you can't date him… let it go!" she said with that mothering tone in her voice. Her Cancerian nature was always protective to a fault.

"But the cello…" I said wistfully. Although he hadn't even played yet, I'd already envisioned it several times since seeing it sitting in his living room.

"How long have you been hanging out with this psychopath?" she demanded.

"Well, that's the thing…" Now it was time for the other bomb to drop. "You remember my knight in shining VW when I came here in November?" I asked.

"No way! Sweater Guy? Please tell me you're joking."

"I found him again by accident," I said. "He repaired my cuckoo clock. Apparently a cross country trip isn't good for them."

"No, so you're saying that Sweater Guy is a Blutbad, and you're only telling me this now?" Chloe's annoyance practically bit into my ear.

"I didn't know he was one when I met him. I was pretty drunk and he controlled himself extremely well that night. I had no clue." There, maybe that would convince Chloe that Monroe wasn't as threatening as she was making him out to be.

"Had no clue," she repeated while clicking her teeth through the phone. Crap, she was having a woge over all this. "Because you were drunk and reckless."

"He's taking me to the symphony tonight," I continued with a smile in my voice, ignoring her comment. "What evil Blutbad goes to the symphony?"

"The kind that likes classical music with his human dinner," she said flatly.

I laughed in spite of her serious tone. "So, he's a sophisticated psycho?"

"Hannibal Lecter. There's you a sophisticated, psycho Blutbad. They didn't call the movie _Silence of the Lambs_ for nothing. I'm sure Sweater Guy would love to have you with a side of fava beans and a nice Chianti."

"Chloe, I really think you're wrong."

"I hope I'm wrong, Renée. You have to be safe for me," she warned as the clicking continued. "I know you better than anyone, and when you set your sights on something you want, you won't listen to reason." She knew me so well.

"I _am_ being safe," I replied. So safe that I'd given Monroe my address. I shook my head.

"Does he know that you know?" Chloe asked. "Or is he in the dark with everyone else?"

"No, I haven't told him," I replied softly.

"Girl, you're just trying to add drama into your life." She attempted to laugh, but this was upsetting her way too much. "Please, be safe if you're going to go out with him. And stay in public places," she added. "Hopefully he knows not to eat his date in public." She sighed dramatically, still clicking away.

"I will be safe, and I will stay in public with him." Except when he was picking me up here, in private. "I love you, Chloe," I said and we hung up.

I set the phone down on the coffee table. The conversation didn't help, but I had a feeling that was the way it would go. Chloe was right about one thing, however. I had set my sights on Monroe and I wasn't about to back down. My recklessness wouldn't let me.

It was already two-thirty in the afternoon according to my cuckoo clock. Monroe would be here in a few hours. I needed to get ready for the symphony!

* * *

A/N: Next chapter is the DATE! (:


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Promptly at five o'clock the doorbell rang. I'd been rushing around for the last two and a half hours, primping, preening, shaving, and plucking. I curled my hair and did a decent job at creating a smoky eye look. The dark eye shadow intensified my green eyes. I'd put the hair pin in a few dozen spots on my head until it finally looked right. With the dress and the accessories, I could've walked the red carpet. I looked myself over in the mirror one last time. I cleaned up pretty well. Flashing myself a cheesy smile, I headed to the living room to answer the door.

When I opened the door, Monroe was standing in front of me wearing a colorful plaid shirt of various burgundies, blacks and whites, a sweater vest with a burgundy tie, and black slacks. He was holding a single-stemmed red rose. The intro to Meatloaf's 'You Took the Words Right out of My Mouth' echoed in my brain immediately.

Monroe's eyes matched the color of the rose as he looked me over, his gaze resting on my cleavage. Yeah, he was definitely a guy.

"Stunning…" was all he could get out. He stood, pausing for a moment while just staring at me. Finally he broke his gaze and awkwardly held out the rose. "For you," he said and I melted a little.

I hadn't had flowers in ages. Jack and I had lost that kind of romance years ago. Monroe's red eyes were back to staring again, burning bright enough that his whole face took on a crimson glow. I tried to ignore his eyes and my fear. I had to stay calm. Blutbaden could smell fear. If I was afraid, then he'd wonder why, and then the truth might come out and this date would be over, fast.

I took the rose and tilted my head forward to smell its sweetness. I met his eyes, still as red as ever, and he began to twitch a little.

"Thank you!" I said, never letting my gaze falter. "I'll just put this in water and we can go. Or if we have time, you can come in for a bit," I added without thinking. Crap, I was inviting him inside. My manners were innate.

"Oh, yeah," he replied. "We have time." His smile was just a little less sweet and a little more ominous. Great... Well, at least if I was going to die, I'd look pretty good doing it.

He slowly stepped over the threshold, observing everything in my living room. Much like his home, my walls had quite a few books on the shelves. He skimmed a few titles as he moved forward. His eyes went to my violin case propped against one of the bookshelves and he nodded appreciatively. Monroe also noticed where I'd mounted my cuckoo clock on the wall.

He walked over toward the clock. "Now you'll want me to do some more maintenance on this in six months or so," he said, rubbing his bearded chin, his tone in clockmaker mode. Great, maybe that meant I'd live six more months. Oh my, now I was paranoid. Thanks Chloe.

"Just have a seat anywhere, I'll be right back." I made a dash for the kitchen. Thank goodness I'd cleaned up the place.

I took a water glass from the cupboard, turned on the sink and filled it. I found an aspirin bottle in one of the catch-all drawers and popped one tablet in the glass, and then placed the rose inside, admiring it once more. Beautiful and flawless. He had a good eye for flowers. Too bad I didn't have a real vase, because it deserved to be in one instead of this silly glass. I inhaled the scent as the Meatloaf song echoed in my mind again.

_"…would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses?"_

Would I get a choice? I shuddered at the thought.

I returned to the living room and Monroe looked me over once more, then he looked down at himself. "I feel… underdressed," he sighed. His face had a sad puppy look.

"Nonsense," I said. "You look quite dapper!" I smiled brightly to support the compliment.

He smiled back, half-heartedly as if he didn't believe me. "So, nice place you have here," he commented, drumming his fingers against his knee as he looked around. "It's kinda... voluminous."

"Yeah, I got lucky with this one," I said with a smile. "It's close to work and it's pretty roomy."

"I, umm, noticed your violin case sitting over there." He pointed toward my bookshelf. "Mind if I take a look?"

"Sure." I crossed the room, picked up my case, and sat on the opposite side of the couch. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering about. There was a Blutbad in my home, on my couch, and he wanted to see my violin. I opened the case slowly, the smell of rosin filling my nose. Carefully I lifted the violin out and set the case down by the couch. "It was my Grandfather's," I said and passed it over to Monroe.

He held it delicately, admiring the mother of pearl inlay on the tailpiece. "Very nice." He moved his eyes over the rest of the body. "And it's in great condition." Monroe pointed as he said, "You can tell it's handcrafted with the details on the edging. It's gotta be old." He angled the violin sideways and eyed the label through the F hole. "Oh yeah, you got an antique here. Markneukirchen 1893. It's German."

"Yeah, it's a Gläsel violin. Ludwig Gläsel was a prominent luthier in Germany. This one is a replica of a Stradivarius style violin, and it has such a great tone."

"I've actually heard of Gläsel. He moved close to me on the couch and my heart quickened. I almost jumped up, but I held back my fear and remained on the couch. "The family started out making violins, but then later on they made some pretty good cellos, too."

That warm, woodsy scent of his cologne met my nose, and I relaxed a little. I breathed in slowly. Was there a hint of orange, maybe cinnamon? I still couldn't place it.

"You see this?" Monroe continued, holding up the violin again where I could read the label. "See the bottom where it says 'German Cremona?'" I nodded. "Gläsel started adding that to his pieces, which I always found kinda witty since, you know, Cremona, Italy was famous for the greats like Amati and Stradivari. So it's like saying it's the German version of excellence," he chuckled as he held the violin up to examine the back. "This is like holding a piece of history, man."

"You really know your facts," I beamed.

"Eh, I read things here and there. I just knew about that because of the Gläsel cellos." He turned toward me. "So, how long have you been playing?"

"Since third grade," I replied reflectively. "We ought to play sometime. I noticed your cello when I was picking up my clock," I grinned regardless of my efforts. Despite everything, I really wanted to listen to him play the cello.

He shook his head, looking down at the violin again. "You know, I'm not very good."

"I'm sure you're better than you give yourself credit for," I encouraged. "I haven't played around with anyone in a while." I stumbled on my words. "Music… I haven't played _music_ with anyone in a while." The heat was creeping up my cheeks.

Monroe laughed. "I knew what you meant." He ran his fingers across the strings, letting off each note. For a moment there I wanted to be those violin strings. I tried to block out my shameless thoughts. "I'd like to hear what this sounds like with a bow." He looked up at me, another flash of red passed across his eyes.

"Then it's settled, we'll schedule a jam session. The violin and the cello sound so good together."

"That can be arranged." He nodded as he spoke. Monroe slowly ran his finger down the back of my violin and then handed it back to me. I was becoming awfully jealous of my violin.

I propped it up on my knee. "See, if you hold it this way it's a mini cello," I grinned. The joke helped to replace the other shameless thoughts that were now circling my mind.

"Yeah, right." He let out a chuckle. "Maybe for a toddler."

"They're learning younger and younger," I smirked. Carefully placing the violin back in its case, I stood and repositioned it against the bookshelf. I settled back down next to Monroe on the couch, smoothing out my dress.

"I met a violin prodigy a few weeks ago. Talented young man," he said. "It's such a beautiful instrument."

"I fell in love with it at a young age when I saw a rerun of Itzhak Perlman on _Sesame Street_." I grinned at the memory. "The range it has and the sheer volume it can produce has always drawn me to it. Sometimes I think it chose me instead of the other way around." I laughed nervously. "You probably think that's silly."

"Nah, the universe has its way of making things happen that are, you know, meant to happen sometimes."

"I like that theory," I nodded. "I'll have to keep that in mind." That was the second time he'd mentioned the universe. That had to mean _something_.

"You've got quite a collection of books over there," he commented, eyeing my bookshelves again.

"Some women collect shoes, I collect books," I chuckled. "And I re-read them to the point where the pages are worn out. Like Hemingway said, 'There is no friend as loyal as a book,'" I added, looking over my collection.

"If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all," Monroe replied with a nod.

"Oscar Wilde." I grinned at him and his lips turned up in a smile. "Great quote." He seemed intrigued that I was a bit knowledgeable in literature.

Monroe glanced down at his wide cuff, brown leather watch. "Whoa, dude, we should probably get going!" He stood up quickly. "I have this great place planned for dinner. You're gonna love it!" he said with hands gesturing. As long as I wasn't the main course, I'd love it just fine.

Moving off the couch I replied, "Great, I'm starving." I grabbed my black dress jacket where I'd laid it on the armchair. As we walked to the door, I hummed a little bit to myself.

"Are you humming Meatloaf?" he asked, leaning his head to the side.

"Yeah... guess so," I replied, avoiding eye contact as we went outside and down the steps. I really needed to watch what I was humming.

Monroe opened the passenger side door of his pale yellow VW for me. Once I was securely inside, he closed the door. It looked different on the inside than last time, but this time I was seeing it sober. The dashboard was simple. No digital displays or gadgets in here. There was one large gauge in the center that had everything from the speedometer and odometer to the fuel. The radio seemed to be original with two small silver dials and no buttons. This car suited Monroe well; it was vintage and comfortable.

Monroe hopped into the driver's side and I buckled up. I held my clutch in my lap and rested my hand against it, admiring how well it looked next to my nails. Yeah, I was happy I'd chosen silver.

"So, where are we headed?" I asked.

"Surprises!" He turned to me, eyes wide with excitement as he spoke. They were back to brown again and the butterflies in my stomach had settled down now that we were out of the house.

I nodded and smiled. "A surprise dinner. Okay."

I adjusted my dress as we drove across the Broadway Bridge. Unlike my skirt, this dress was long enough to cover everything. I looked off toward the river, enjoying the scenery. Behind us the Portland skyline was already lit up as the sun set low on the horizon. Crossing the Willamette River reminded me of the Ohio River back home. Louisville only had a few bridges, but Portland seemed to have many.

"There are quite a few bridges in this city," I noted as I pointed to another large one in the distance to the left.

Monroe chuckled then replied, "They don't call it Bridgetown for nothing." He named off a few of the bridges we could see from this vantage point and identified notable landmarks here and there along the way. Monroe glanced over at me as he merged onto I-84. "So, tell me... How long ago was third grade?" There was a sly smirk with that question.

"Long ago and far away," I replied. A little mystery never hurt anyone.

Monroe laughed. "Oh, come on…"

"How long ago do you think it was?" I asked with a teasing grin.

"Dangerous question there, dude," he replied and I had to nod.

"I'm twenty-eight," I said, answering the question he really wanted to ask.

He looked me over, almost in disbelief. "I wouldn't have guessed that at all. Twenty tops. Okay, maybe twenty-one since I kinda met you in a bar."

"I have good skin." I smiled. "I'm just lucky."

"Very good skin," he replied, and then he cleared his throat nervously. "Umm, yeah. Lucky." Monroe quickly turned his head back to the road.

* * *

A/N: If you've never heard Meatloaf's "You Took the Words Right out of My Mouth" - Go to youtube right now. (;

When I wrote the part about Monroe feeling under dressed, I imagined the scene when Monroe is interrupted on the cello by Nick in Episode 4. "I feel like I should complain." He's just so cute the way he says it. That was how he said that line in my mind. LOL!

Most of the time when I have him saying "Really?" It's from that same scene, too. It's the same tone as when he says the word as he opens the door. Just so you have something to reference. LOL!

The violin maker and factoids, yeah all that is real. Just like Monroe, you learn things with my story.

So, the date continues in Chapter 14! Enjoy! (:


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

We arrived at the Rheinlander German Restaurant from my house in fifteen minutes. The large beer stein on the sign made me laugh. I could see why Monroe chose this place. From the building's design it could've easily been hoisted directly out of Germany and dropped on this very spot.

"Ah, I see a German theme here. German food and a German Requiem. So, are you of German heritage?" I inquired.

"Oh, well, yeah. You could say that," he replied with a gleam in his eye. "The food here is great. Like authentic German cuisine," Monroe continued as I looked the place over. "They also have a decent vegetarian menu."

"Oh, you're a vegetarian?" I asked casually, although my eyes begged to widen. A vegetarian Blutbad? How the heck did that work?

"Yeah, been one now almost ten years," he replied proudly. Well, maybe I didn't have as much to worry about as I thought.

We found a place to park and entered through the main door. The inside was just as authentic as the outside. Waiters and waitresses were dressed in old fashioned German attire. German folk songs rang out loudly as the live band played near a few adjacent tables. There was even an accordion player accompanying the music. I took it all in.

A waitress wearing a floral dress and pigtails came up to us. "Do you have a reservation?" she asked.

"Yes, for two under Monroe," he replied. Was Monroe his last name? I really needed to ask more questions. This was definitely unlike me.

We were seated by Pigtails, and a few folk dancers moved past our table.

"So, is Monroe your first or last name?" I asked.

He sat up straighter in his seat. "Last name."

I leaned in. "And the first would be?"

"Eddy," he said, but the word came out bitter in his mouth.

"Edward is a nice name," I commented, using the more proper version instead. He didn't look like an Eddy. He was too brilliant to be an Eddy. He could pass for an Edward, but that didn't suit him either. I was trying to be polite, but there must have been a reason why he went by his last name.

"Monroe is better," he said emphatically as if he'd read my mind. "Just Monroe." I agreed wholeheartedly. Whatever the reason, we weren't going to get into it tonight.

"Well, my last name is Davenport, just to be quid pro quo." Chloe would've had a field day if she'd heard me use that term with him.

"So, twenty-eight years old and a last name." A smile peeked through his beard. "I'm learning stuff all the time."

"You didn't tell me your age," I reminded him. "Actually when is your birthday?" I continued.

"October 31, 1974," he replied, slightly hesitating on the year. Halloween. Wow! It was all I could do not to crack up right there. A Blutbad born on Halloween.

But instead I responded with something else. "Thirty-seven…" I said, doing the math pretty quickly. "And a Scorpio," I added.

"Oh, you're into that kinda mumbo jumbo?" he asked.

"Yeah, I like to know what species people are," I responded straight-faced, watching his reaction. He shifted a little in his seat at the word 'species,' and I smiled on the inside. Don't discount my 'mumbo jumbo,' Mr. Blutbad. "Like most things," I continued, "Astrology is a theory, and I've found it works well to tell more about someone's personality."

Pigtails returned with glasses of water, interrupting us. She seemed displeased we weren't ready to order yet and walked off.

"Guess we better crack open the menus, huh?" Monroe said with a raise of his eyebrows. We'd leave our astrology conversation for another time.

When Pigtails returned we had our selections. Monroe chose the Käsespätzle, and I had Chicken Jägerschnitzel. He spoke German impressively well. I knew a little German, but my forte was French. I let him order mine just so I could hear him pronounce it. He seemed amused by that.

"Why do you choose to be vegetarian?" I asked after we had received our meals.

He paused a moment, his fork hovering. "For cruelty reasons," he replied after thinking of how to respond.

"I hope me having the chicken doesn't offend."

"Oh, no." He waved his free hand. "You're fine. It's just something that I do for myself. What others have doesn't affect me." That was good, because I was definitely a meat eater. In a way I was glad he wasn't.

"Do you ever miss it?" I asked carefully, watching his reaction again. He'd think I was referring to burgers and pepperoni pizza. I'd said it to see if there was a flicker of missing the taste of Red Riding Hood's grandma.

"Sure, there's a craving there from time to time, but I've adapted pretty well to this lifestyle. I can't say that I haven't relapsed before." He forced a smile, but there was more in that statement than sneaking a bite of a chicken nugget.

Hmm... So, who was the unfortunate soul that had been on the other side of that relapse, and how long ago were we talking? I'd probed enough and didn't want to sound too suspicious. Besides, if I kept this up, the negative thoughts would creep back in, and I was determined to have a good time tonight.

Our dinner conversation drifted from food to our personal lives. We talked briefly about exes. I shared parts of my situation with Jack. Monroe shared that his ex-girlfriend had come to town about a month ago, which had been awkward. He seemed to not want to go into much detail, but it must have had something to do with the Wesen aspect. I was betting that she was a Blutbad like he was. We continued moving from topic to topic, finding we had much to talk about.

"How are we doing on time?" I asked, pushing my now empty plate to the side.

He glanced at his watch. "Oh, geez,". he said with alarm. "We need to get going!" It was true; time does fly when you're having fun. This time I was actually having fun.

We flagged down Pigtails, and he snatched the check before I had a moment to protest. Maybe this was a date after all.

* * *

A/N: The Rheinlander German Restaurant is a real restaurant in Portland. Look up a photo on Google. I love the way it looks!

Okay, yeah so I mentioned the first name. I really didn't want to, but I couldn't find a scenario that someone wouldn't ask, "Hey, Monroe what?" I mean who wouldn't? But for the most part you won't see of that name, I assure you. (Well, unless we get more cannon in the show about it.)

So, Renée is into astrology. I wanted to dodge the birthday question, but sometimes the characters take you where they want, so Monroe has a birthday. I'm going to be upset if they ever tell his birthday on the show, 'cause it won't match. Ah well. But I have a cool little astrology/birthday book at home and after picking the date, I looked it up, and I was floored at the description. I have a photo of that, too. You know the drill... it's on the profile.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The drive from the restaurant to the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall was only ten minutes away since we took the I-84. My phone vibrated in my clutch. Sliding the phone out, I checked the display. It was a text from Jack and I scowled slightly.

**Miss U Babe! –J**

It was like he had radar and knew I was out having a good time. I grumbled to myself and deleted the text.

"You okay?" Monroe asked.

"Yeah, it's nothing." I replied and turned my phone off, throwing it back into my clutch.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

The parking lot was nearly full, but we managed to find a spot that wasn't too far to walk.

Monroe opened the car door for me, extending out his hand. I had a moment of déjà vu from the time he'd taken me back to my hotel. I took his hand and he escorted me to the concert hall. The large sign on the side of the building vertically lit up the word 'Portland' in vivid, white letters on a black background. Gold lights traced around the edges of the sign. It was reminiscent of something out of the 1930s. As we walked up to the entrance, I was humming The Supremes' 'I Hear a Symphony.'

"You sure do hum a lot," Monroe mused.

"Sorry, it's a bad habit of mine," I replied.

The inside of the concert hall was exquisite. Large chandeliers were mounted to an intricately carved gold ceiling. My heels clicked lightly against the tan checkerboard floor. Monroe pulled out our tickets once we reached the ticket window. He had already purchased those, too, so tonight I was in his debt on both accounts.

"The Schnitz was built in 1928," Monroe said as I kept moving my eyes from place to place. "It's Italian Renaissance-style architecture. The acoustics here are gonna blow you away!" He grinned at me. I felt like Cinderella at the ball.

The usher directed us to our seats. Monroe had gone all out. We were positioned on the ground level directly center to the stage and just a few rows back.

"These seats are wonderful," I exclaimed. "How much do I owe you?" He put his hand up and made a zero with his fingers. I thanked him graciously.

The concert began and the lights dimmed. I settled in my seat. Brahms filled the concert hall and I closed my eyes, taking in the music. The deep tones of the first movement vibrated within me. The choir began to sing and the sound was definitely powerful. Monroe squeezed my hand and I turned quickly, my eyes popping open. He was watching me and I smiled to show my appreciation. I kept my eyes open, observing the large choir. So this was what it was like to be out with someone who shared your interests. It was refreshing!

During intermission, Monroe went into long accounts of the history of Brahms, and bits of trivia about the movements. I didn't have the heart to tell him I was well versed on Brahms. Besides, the way he told facts was interesting even if I knew the material. The words flowed out of him as fluidly as music. Every point was emphasized by a flick of his hand this way and that. When the announcement that intermission was almost over came through the intercom, I was almost disappointed.

We settled back in our seats as the lights dimmed. I glanced over while Monroe smoothed down his tie. He caught me looking, and a flicker of red passed over his eyes. I bit my lip slightly, turning my head toward the stage. Smart and dapper, such a wonderful combination.

The choir continued through the remaining movements of the German Requiem. Monroe and I exchanged glances most of the night. On the last movement, he reached for my hand again, holding it longer than before. The moment ended too soon and he let it go. Applause filled the concert hall and we both stood up, clapping our hands and adding to the commotion.

"This was such a wonderful evening!" I commented as we moved back into the lobby.

"It's definitely something I wouldn't have done on my own." He gave me a wink.

"I appreciate the invite. Back home I wouldn't have gotten to see anything like this since…" I came close to mentioning Jack and his lack of culture. I bit my tongue and instead smiled pleasantly at Monroe. "Thank you again," I simply stated.

"Would you like to get a drink?" he asked.

"Sure," I accepted. The longer this night lasted, the better.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

We walked to Higgins, which was a block away. Monroe commented they had a nice selection of German beers. The theme seemed to continue. We arrived quickly and I noted the large brown sign bearing the restaurant name above two large windows beside the entrance. Many of the concert goers had the same idea and Higgins was pretty packed, but we found two seats at the bar.

The wine list was also pretty extensive, so I ordered a glass of WillaKenzie Pinot Blanc from the Oregon White Wine list. Monroe ordered something I couldn't pronounce, but it was definitely German. I'd heard the word 'weizen' when he ordered, so it was a wheat beer, but I was clueless to anything else about it.

A red-headed guy walked past us, stopped a moment and I could feel him eyeing me up and down. He sat to the left of me at the bar. "Hey gorgeous are you lost? Because heaven is a long way from here," Ginger said, leaning toward me. Really? I'd rather be asked if I liked gardens. It was a better pick-up line than that one.

"I'm no Angel," I replied, not looking in his direction.

Monroe, however, looked directly across at him, his red eyes glaring. Ginger noticed Monroe's eyes and he had a quick woge into a weasel. I kept my head forward, but glanced at the whole scene out of the corner of my eye. Ginger froze in his chair. Oh, he knew exactly what Monroe was. Monroe gave him a 'you better run now' look with those fiery eyes of his. Ginger got up quick and scampered off.

"Weasels," Monroe muttered, rolling his eyes.

I laughed loudly in spite of myself. If he only knew that I got the inside joke. "You gotta love the pick-up lines in Portland." I grinned, elbowing Monroe teasingly.

We finished our drinks and headed back to the VW. The ride home was filled with talk about Brahms and cheesy pick-up lines. Once we were back at my house, we lingered in the driveway.

"Would you like to come in for a bit?" I asked. Was that really a wise thing to offer? Chloe would not consider that public at all.

"It's getting late and I have a pocket watch I need to finish tonight," he replied and my heart sank like an anchor. "I should, umm, probably head home."

"Thank you again for everything tonight." I rested my hand on his shoulder, my silver nails sparkling in the moonlight. "You are too kind."

He took my hand from his shoulder and kissed it gently. "Goodnight," he said, holding my hand a little longer. My reckless woge really wanted him to come inside.

I exited the car and he watched me walk up to my porch. "Have a safe trip home," I called out as he backed away.

I closed the front door and stood in the living room. I chewed my top lip, a tad deflated that there wasn't a real goodnight kiss or even a walk up to my door. He actually left in kind of a hurry.

"'_Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life."_

I hummed as I took off my heels and sat on the couch. It was all perfect up until… that. Bittersweet, but maybe he'd made the better choice. My reckless woge scoffed at my conclusion. I watched the cuckoo clock as the minute hand ticked forward. It was almost ten o'clock. I still had two hours left before midnight. It looked like Cinderella was getting gypped tonight.

I pulled out my cell phone from my clutch and turned the phone back on. There was one voicemail. It was Jack again. He'd called to let me know that he wanted to come see me in Portland. I deleted it and scowled. I contemplated texting Monroe something sweet and sappy. I even contemplated driving over to his house. But I didn't do either. Instead, I turned in for the night, hanging up my Holly Golightly dress in the closet to take to the dry cleaners before going to bed alone.

* * *

A/N: Aww, don't feel bad for Renée, this story is nowhere near over. (;

Go Googling for the Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall. Higgins is really a block away. I love incorporating these real places in the story. Makes it seem plausible that way.

I hope you're enjoying everything so far. Stay tuned for more chapters soon!


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The next morning I went into the kitchen. My beautiful rose was still there in its mediocre vase. I made a quick breakfast of a bagel and eggs and looked regretfully at my coffee pot. Monroe's French pressed coffee sounded much better than Folgers. I toyed with the idea of calling him. Thoughts of him driving away resurfaced in my mind. What had gone wrong last night? We'd had a really great time together, but the way Monroe had left so quickly was getting under my skin. I tried to rationalize it. It wasn't really a date, right? And he'd said he had a watch to repair. Either way I still felt rejected. So, I would do what any woman would… I'd wait for him to call me.

Tossing my thoughts aside, I worked on my training materials most of the morning, and then went for a run in the wooded area that was a few blocks from my house. The cold actually felt pleasant, and it numbed my skin as my MP3 player filled my ears with Mick Jagger singing, 'You Can't Always Get What You Want.' Wasn't that the truth?

I took a long shower when I returned and settled on the couch. I ought to call Chloe. She was probably worried sick after our talk yesterday. Reaching for my cell, I dialed her number. Out of all my Wesen friends, she was the only one I could really be myself with. That was the perks of a BFF.

"You're alive!" Chloe cried out, sounding serious.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, going out with a Blutbad is a death sentence."

"He was a perfect gentleman," I assured her as I thumbed through my MP3 player, adding a few songs. "He didn't even take my offer to come inside after our date," I added, but then I smacked my forehead.

"What?!" Chloe yelled and the clicking began. "You let him come to your house? Are you just trying to make it easy for him?"

"He wanted to pick me up, so I let him," I replied flatly.

"Are you gonna let him throw you in the oven, too?"

"No, and he's a vegetarian, so that won't be a problem."

"A vegetarian?" She laughed. "Do you honestly believe one of them can avoid meat? Renée, you need to use that brain of yours. He's a monster! You can't change a monster."

"Anyone can change if they want to," I reasoned. "present party included," I added with a hint of sarcasm. "Maybe I've seen too many fairy tales that end in happily ever after, but I feel Monroe is… an exception to the rule."

"The Grimm's fairy tales were _not_ happy," she coldly reminded me.

"Thank goodness I'm not a Grimm," I stated as condescendingly as I could. "I prefer Disney, anyway."

"Renée, being reckless is gonna get you killed," Chloe said, completely aggravated with me. "I sat here last night, worried sick that you were wolf chow, and that was when I thought you were just meeting him in public."

"Why didn't you call me if you were so worried?" I asked, trying hard not to laugh. "I'm surprised you weren't texting me hourly, 'Are you dead yet?'" She was being serious, and I was anything but.

"I'm trying really hard not to smother you, Renée." She sighed out. "I figured you'd call me, but if I hadn't heard from you today, then I was going to call the Portland police and have them bust down your door." I would've laughed, but she was probably serious about that one, too.

"Chloe, I love you," I said. "And I realize I've done some stupid things in my time, but I really feel this one is going to be okay."

"Your definition of 'okay' is _so_ not the same as everyone else's," she replied with a scowl. "If you're going to do this, I need to know I have an open line of communication with you," she mothered. "You can't shut me out. Can you do that at least?"

"I can do that." If only she wasn't so far away. But if she were here, there would've been no way I would've gone on my non-date, date last night. She would've made sure of that.

"I'm trying really hard to trust your judgment. We aren't kids anymore. But girl, you worry the shit out of me!" Chloe tried to laugh, but failed miserably.

"I get that, Chloe, I really do. Can we put this Blutbad thing aside for a moment, so I can tell my best friend about my date?"

Chloe sighed, but she listened. I told her about the restaurant and the concert hall. I mentioned the run-in with the weasel and how Monroe had set him straight, Wesen style. We talked like regular girls do about the guys they like. For a moment the conversation felt normal. Well, as normal as one could get when you're telling a rabbit about your date with a wolf.

"I got his age and sign," I said while grinning.

"So, spill!" Her tone changed abruptly. "What are we working with?" Chloe had adopted my love for astrology back in high school. I talked about it so much she'd picked up a lot from what I'd told her.

"He's thirty-seven and a Scorpio," I said.

"Scorpio?" she disapprovingly scowled. "See, even if he wasn't Wesen that's an evil sign."

"Yeah I know," I replied. "They're deep and mysterious, and they can be a bit devilish." They were also supposedly good in bed, but I didn't add that one aloud.

"Wouldn't a nice Gemini be a better match for you?" she asked with a hopeful tone. Was she going to try to talk me out of Monroe by way of astrology now? I had to laugh.

"Are you sure you're not an Esellasttier?" I asked mockingly. "Because now you're just being an ass."

"Hey, I'm just trying to make a point!" she shot back. "You believe in astrology, and you've taught me that Scorpios and Leos are a bad match. Let him go and find a good match." Chloe was trying her best, but her logic was failing me.

"Chloe, I'm not backing down from him, regardless of his sign, or that he's Wesen."

"Or that he might kill you?" She clicked out the response.

"Even that," I simply replied.

"Fine." She knew arguing with me was a waste of breath. "Just be safe for me, Renée. That's all I ask."

"I will," I replied and we hung up.

Chloe had my best interests at heart, but the more she worried, the more I wanted to rebel. I didn't tell her that Monroe drove off in a hurry after the date. She'd have been too happy about that part. I wasn't backing down, but perhaps Monroe was the one backing down from me. Chloe might get her wish after all. Maybe he was a gentleman and didn't kiss on a first date. I'd just go with that explanation instead.

After our phone call, I turned on the cable TV while I combed through more flow charts. _Twilight: New Moon_ was on. Rub it in why don't ya, cable? I watched as these angsty teenagers pined over one another. Crap, was I already pining, too? It had been a long time since I'd felt like pining over anyone. Perhaps 'pining' was too juvenile of a term, although, I was already using the term, 'hanging out,' so why not? Wow, I was sounding like an angsty fourteen year old. But I was a grown woman, and Monroe was a grown man. Well, technically he was a grown Blutbad. As I continued to watch this angst-ridden movie, I imagined Monroe and me standing in the woods together…

**"You're fast and strong. Your eyes blaze fire whenever you see the color red. You have wolf-like features... I know what you are."**

**"Say it… out loud. Say it."**

**"Blutbad."**

**"Are you afraid?"**

**"You're a clockmaker, I can't be too afraid…"**

**"Then ask me the most basic question: What do we eat?"**

**"Rabbits, like my friend, Chloe."**

I was having my own _Twilight_ angst, which was just silly. Oh, the irony that his first name was Edward! I laughed in spite of myself. I reached for the phone. I'd just call him. While I wasn't irrevocably in love with Monroe yet, I _could _cash in on his offer for 'coffee anytime.'

I muted the TV and dialed his number. It rang a few times. After the fourth ring, Monroe answered.

"Uh, hello?" he asked, not sounding quite himself.

"Good afternoon!" I replied cheerfully while checking the clock. It was a quarter past noon, barely afternoon, but accurate. "Did you have enough time to fix the pocket watch last night?"

"Oh, that?" He sighed. "Yeah. I got it done."

"I'm glad," I replied. "So, I was calling to see if I could take you up on that offer for a lesson in French press if you're free?" I tried to sound nonchalant.

"So, I've got ya hooked on the coffee, huh?" he replied and finally a smile came through in his voice.

"Well, it _is_ the best in Portland," I reminded him.

"Yeah, I'm free. Come on over, and I'll show you all the secrets to a great cup of coffee." Now he was sounding more like himself.

"Great!" I'll see you soon then."

I set the phone down, grinning. "See, Renée, that wasn't so hard. You're an adult, and if you like someone, you call that someone. Don't you dare sit at home and wait for them to call you." The external pep talk sounded convincing, but even though I'd called and practically invited myself over, I wasn't going to tell him anything I really wanted to say, like that he made me giddy, and I knew he was a Wesen killing machine underneath all those sweaters.

I glanced back over to the TV as Jacob jumped over Bella and changed into the wolf to protect her from the pack. Yeah, I wanted to be Team Monroe. On the hero slash villain scoreboard, hero was definitely winning.

I changed clothes quickly. I found a blue and gray sweater that went well with my silver nails. I was going to get my money's worth on that manicure. I donned a gray skirt that was a shade darker than the sweater, slipped on a pair of heels, and pinned my hair back. Checking out my reflection in the mirror, I smiled. Not as elegant as last night, but I still looked pretty darn attractive. I spritzed on a little vanilla body spray that went with my body wash. Since I'd showered earlier this morning, I wanted the vanilla to linger. I added some lip gloss and a swipe of mascara, and I was ready to go.

I hummed Madonna's 'Beautiful Stranger' on the drive to Monroe's place.

_"I looked into your eyes,_  
_And my world came tumbling down,_  
_You're the devil in disguise,_  
_That's why I'm singing this song…"_

It was warmer out today, but still overcast. God, I missed the sunshine. Even in January you'd still get a sunny day back in Kentucky. I arrived at Monroe's, parked behind the VW, and got out of the car. Monroe was sitting on the porch steps. He was wearing a denim shirt and a colorful sweater that put his brown striped one to shame.

"Love the colors," I said while eyeing the sweater.

"So, does this one stand out, too?" he asked jokingly.

I smiled at him. "It's an attention grabber."

He stood up, and we both walked inside. We went left through the large arched entryway into the living room.

"So yeah, this is my place. Home, sweet, home," he nervously said. "Well, I mean, you've seen the workroom part, but this is, like, the rest of the home... part." He made a long swipe motion across the living room with his hand.

Just like Monroe's Volkswagen, this room had a comfortable, vintage feel. My eyes moved about, taking in all the details. The wallpaper was striped like in his workroom, but the colors in here were more muted with pale green, gold, and orange with a wide painted tan border at the top. Dark wood flooring covered the room, except for a tan area rug in front of the fireplace that matched the border. Dark mahogany wood beams divided the ceiling into six large squares. Two overhead lights hung from the main beams, which almost looked like they required fire instead of light bulbs. There were no remotes for these, for sure.

The large picture window in front of the cedar chest had a stained glass border of a forest scene in front of a blue background, which matched the stained glass on the front door. Well, that seemed appropriate. All it was missing was Little Red Riding Hood and a picnic basket.

Clocks were positioned everywhere throughout the room. There were at least five I counted on the mantel of the fireplace alone. More clocks hung on the walls and a few pieces of art. It reminded me I still had things I needed to hang up at home.

In the center of the room set a retro style, gold couch and nearby was a leather swivel chair with a matching footrest. A modest coffee table was positioned in front of the couch, also very retro. Monroe owned a flat screen TV, which honestly was surprising to see. It didn't match the décor at all.

To my right was one of the larger bookshelves with a beautiful, oak finish grandfather clock standing beside it. A stereo, plenty of eclectic book titles, other trinkets, and more clocks were scattered about the shelves. Two vintage toy robots set on the top near the stereo speakers, which were unexpected yet interesting. The top of the bookshelf also had a few stacks of books piled up. I wanted to organize the bookshelf desperately, but I held back the urge.

My eyes glanced over to the cello on the other side of the room near the fireplace. I had a better view of it this time than before. It seemed new and pristine with a glossy finish. My lips curved into a smile. I couldn't wait to hear how it sounded. A smaller bookshelf was sitting to the right of the cello, complete with more clocks on display and many more books.

In front of me was a large wall cutout on the far side of the living room and a rectangular doorway to its right. Seated on the cut out was an interactive model of the solar system, complete with moving planets surrounding the sun positioned in the center. I knew it moved because I had one similar to it when I was a kid. I darted my eyes to the left. The telescope was missing. Perhaps he'd gone star gazing recently. My eyes focused back to the far wall. Through both openings, the room beyond the living room was painted deep red. Red? Really? Was this his version of Blutbad irony?

"Over there is the main dining area," he said when he caught me staring. "Well, when it doesn't hold, uhh... other stuff."

"The red room?" I had to bite my tongue not to say more.

"Yep." He nodded as he rocked on his heels. "The kitchen is this way, follow me."

We went through a second rectangular doorway on the far right of the living room and passed through a green hallway area that was a shade or two darker than my kitchen. More clocks were on the walls, even another cuckoo or two.

"Oh, over that way is the breakfast nook." He pointed to a room on the left with another large, rounded archway. It was the same shade of green and held a small table with two chairs and a white hutch to the right. The Big Bad Wolf had a breakfast nook. I stifled a chuckle. He pointed to the right. "That way goes back to the workroom." We moved forward. "And here is the kitchen." He smiled as he clasped his hands together.

The room was a cheery baby blue. Now _this_ was a kitchen. From the myriad of accessories it was obviously well used, which mine never was. Pale wood cabinets lined the walls and the darker wood counter tops below wrapped around even past the kitchen into the hallway area. They held everything from canister sets and a spice rack to the usual assortment of items like a blender and a toaster oven. There was even a plant beside the sink, which gave it a homey feel. A selection of wine glasses hung below one of the cabinets next to the fridge.

A kitchen island stood in the center. Well, at least that's what I thought it was. The piece was shaped like a tall cube of wood that was slightly uneven on top and sloped down the center. It could almost pass for a seat instead of something you'd see in a kitchen. I liked it, however, because it was unique, like Monroe, so it fit along with everything else.

An adorable retro stove the same color green as in the hallway area was behind us. More spices were meticulously arranged on top. This man sure owned a lot of spices. Mounted beside the stove was a magnetic knife rack, displaying large, sharp, menacing knives. Thank goodness he was a vegetarian.

"Your stove reminds me of something out of _Leave it to Beaver_," I remarked with a grin.

"It's a 1950s O'Keefe & Merritt Deville edition stove. Those are _pretty_ hard to come by," Monroe said proudly. "So, are you ready to learn the fine art of coffee brewing?" he asked as he pointed to what looked like the manual coffee bean grinder and his French press on the counter.

"Teach me, oh, wise one," I grinned in reply.

Monroe was an excellent teacher. He went through each step and put emphasis on the parts he felt were most important. It was definitely an art, because there were many steps to follow. The process involved quite a bit more than pressing the power button on my coffee pot at home.

"You see, if you're willing to invest the time, you get amazing results," Monroe said, and then took a sip from his blue coffee mug. "And a caffeine buzz."

I breathed in the aroma from my own blue mug. "This smells amazing!" I took a sip and closed my eyes. Again, java heaven had returned to my tongue. The taste was just as flavorful as before, and I let out a soft sigh.

My eyes opened to Monroe's curious face watching me. "I notice you close your eyes a lot," he said while slowly rolling his coffee mug between his hands.

I laughed awkwardly. He had picked up on my habit. "I sometimes like to block out one of my senses to heighten the others," I explained, taking another generous sip. He nodded as if that was logical. "So, last night… was fantastic." I quickly changed the subject. Talking about those things might lead to other talks I didn't want to have yet.

"I'm glad you liked it." He leaned against the kitchen counter. "You know, I really enjoyed having someone to share it with." A cute, lop-sided grin crept up his face. But if he'd enjoyed it so much, then why had he left so fast when he took me home?

I shook off the angsty thoughts and instead said, "I'm really starting to rack up a debt with you." I winked at him to keep it flirty. "Rides to hotels, discounts on clock repair, dinner and symphony tickets, amazing coffee…"

"I'm sure there are ways you can pay me back," A sly smile replaced his grin, and a flicker of fire ignited in his brown eyes.

I laughed. "I'd offer to make you dinner, but I'd hate to kill you."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked as he raised his eyebrows.

"The kitchen and I are sworn enemies," I explained. "I can make rudimentary things, but if it involves four or more ingredients, it's over."

"Ah, then maybe we'll have to work in a cooking lesson sometime." Monroe scratched the bottom of his bearded chin as he spoke. "We'll turn you into a perfekter Koch in no time."

I translated the German. "A perfect cook?"

"Eh…" He shrugged slightly. "Perfect cook, accomplished cook. You get the idea."

I shook my head. "That's going to take more than one lesson."

"Don't sell yourself short." Monroe grinned. "We'll start with one lesson and, you know, see how it goes."

I grinned back at him. "There you go, adding more debt for me to payback."

We both moved into the living room, taking our mugs with us and settling on the couch. Monroe talked about the best types of oils for cooking, and then the topic switched to his sausage press.

"I haven't made my own sausage in a while. Strictly vegetarian, of course. That's got me thinking, man. I need to find that press and get it out sometime soon. Maybe whip up a batch of badenwurst like my mom and my nana used to make. Well, not _exactly_ how they used to make it."

"Badenwurst?" I asked. "Is that like bratwurst?"

"Oh, no, dude. It's, you know, like a play on words. Like the 'baden' is the…" Monroe paused as his red eyes grew wide. "Err, it's, umm, like…" He was stuttering all over, gesturing his free hand while the other tightly gripped his coffee mug. Baden must have something to do with Blutbaden, no doubt. I bit back my grin. He'd slipped up.

"Badenwurst," I repeated. "Bathing sausage?" I translated the German. "Bathed in what?" I asked Monroe, amused by his reaction.

"Uhh…" His jaw dropped a little. "It's like a family recipe thing. Like a secret sauce." His eyes brightened. "Yeah, a secret sauce, you know, umm, that I can't really divulge, 'cause then it wouldn't be a secret anymore."

"Okay. I can respect a secret recipe," I simply replied.

Monroe's chest relaxed as he let out a breath while his eyes returned to a normal-sized, deep brown. I had to let him off the hook. The poor guy was floundering like an upturned turtle. My conscience couldn't handle watching him squirm.

"Ya know, you translated that pretty well, dude." He raised his eyebrows. "I thought you said you didn't know much German."

"Ich spreche ein wenig," I grinned. "I took a semester in high school. I wish I knew more, honestly." It would definitely help with Wesen translation.

"You only know a little? Well, I could, you know, expand your vocabulary." That genuine smile of his lit up the living room. "Could be another lesson, I'm just saying."

"If I add any more debts I'll have to start a tab." I winked at him.

"I told ya, dude, there are ways to pay me back." The red flickered again in his eyes, countering my wink. I bit my lip slightly at the things I could do to repay him. No, it was best not to have those kinds of thoughts so soon.

"I've seen _The Godfather_," I replied instead as I smirked. "I know how Scorpios operate. It always starts out as, 'Someday, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me…'" I quoted the movie in a really bad Sicilian accent.

Monroe laughed loudly. "Yeah, I'm not as big and bad as Don Corleone, I assure you." I bit back another grin at his terminology. What about a wolf? Was he as big and bad as one of those?

"That reminds me, Mr. Scorpio, I may have to do your chart if that 'mumbo jumbo' doesn't bother you." Monroe chuckled at my use of finger quotes again.

"You can if you want, but I don't think it'll tell you much," he said, finishing off his coffee.

"What, you don't believe in things beyond explanation?" I asked. Oh, tread lightly, Renée.

He looked a little uncomfortable as he sat forward on the couch. "I didn't say that…"

"There are more things in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." I pressed on.

"Oh, there are more things, all right." Monroe squeezed his knee with his free hand. I bit back a grin at that remark. "But, you know, Hamlet was talking ghosts not astrology," he pointed out. The man knew his Shakespeare. That was kind of a turn on.

"Touché." I smiled. "Well, regardless, this Leo is interested in learning what the stars say about you." I moved in a bit closer. "In general, most Scorpios are loners." I came close to saying 'lone wolf,' but I caught myself. "And they're excellent detectives. They have a way of seeing into someone's soul, knowing every secret and purpose. But they guard their own secrets fiercely, and they don't let people in easily." I looked into Monroe's dark brown eyes, which were giving me a curious stare. I may have just stepped over a line. Replace Scorpio with Blutbad, and I'd just confessed everything.

"I wish I knew that much, but sadly I don't," he replied after an appreciative pause. "I'd love to be able to look at someone and know what they're thinking though." Monroe winked at me and he smiled slightly.

"Sometimes you can just ask…" I said, breaking our gaze. I was definitely saying too much now. I finished the last of my coffee and set the mug down on the coaster in front of me.

"So, what about Leos?" Monroe inquired. "What are they all about?"

I turned back toward Monroe. "Oh, Leos are amazing." I smirked. "Haven't you figured that out yet?"

Monroe chuckled. "I'm kinda starting to pick up on that."

The clocks in the house began to chime, and I turned my head toward the closest one. Three o'clock. More time flying away.

"I should probably get going." I picked up our coffee mugs and headed to the kitchen to wash them.

The heat of Monroe warmed my back as he came up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "I'm glad you called," he said softly.

"I'm glad you answered. I thought it was going to go to voicemail." I wanted to ask him if he was okay, since he didn't sound well when he'd picked up the phone earlier. But I'd said too much today as it was.

"I was… on the other line when you called," he replied and let go of my shoulders.

"Thanks for clicking over. Your coffee made my day." I turned from the sink to face him. He was frowning. "Are you all right?" I asked anyway. There was something obviously wrong and I couldn't ignore his expression.

"Huh?" He looked at me again and forced a smile. "Oh, yeah. I'm okay."

"You sure?" I raised an eyebrow. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Just then his phone rang, startling him into a quick woge. He retracted quickly while he searched his pocket and retrieved his phone.

"Nick… Man, not right now," he said to the person on the other end. "Excuse me a sec," Monroe said to me, moving out into the hallway toward his workroom.

I tried not to eavesdrop, but as I closed my eyes I could make out, "Yeah, she's over here right now. Yes, I know what we talked about… I will call you back, man." He returned to the kitchen, his face dismal.

"It sounds like you have some things going on," I said idly as I put the mugs away in the cabinet and then faced him. "I'm going to head home. Thanks again for the coffee lesson and the conversation."

Monroe ran his hands through his wild, curly brown hair, his eyes wider than earlier. "Sorry, umm, yeah, probably for the best. I've got a… _friend_ who needs some help with a few things." He hesitated on the word 'friend.' I held my tongue not to be nosy and probe further. Monroe walked me to the living room and I gathered my things.

I opened the front door, turning again to face him. "I'm going to be working from home coming up this week, so I can make my own hours. Perhaps you can come by and show me what a kitchen is really good for," I offered. Oh my, I was letting him in again. As long as Chloe didn't know he was using an oven near me, it would be fine.

"Yeah, that might be nice." He didn't sound too committed to the idea. "I'll, umm, call ya or something."

I turned back to leave, wanting to linger, but I proceeded to walk out to the car. Monroe stood on the porch, watching as I got in my Malibu. His hands were in his pockets and his dismal face reappeared. What kind of things were going on in that head of his? There was definitely something wrong and I had a funny feeling his 'friend' Nick had something to do with it.

* * *

A/N: Okay, so you're either laughing your butt off or scowling from my Twilight parody scene. I'll respect you either way, but I thought it was grand! (;

Oh, and Renée has just heard about Nick. Ooooh...

Next chapter tomorrow. Stay tuned!


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

I didn't hear from Monroe the next day. After our conversation yesterday, it was best not to worry too much about it. Monroe was an adult, and if he had some personal things going on with his friend, then it wasn't my place to get involved.

I took a half day at work and planned on working from home the rest of the day. Once I got home, a day to myself sounded much better. I needed a 'Renée day.' I went shopping at Squirrel Girl's boutique, grabbed some lunch at Davis Street Tavern, and since I was in the area, I splurged on a Voodoo Doughnut on Southwest Third Avenue. I had my laptop with me, so I opted to get some work done at The Tao of Tea Shop on Northwest Everett Street. Although coffee and PowerPoints went better together, going to a coffee shop seemed like it would be cheating on Monroe in some weird way.

The moment I walked into the tea shop I felt at peace immediately. From the entrance to the gardens next to it, the ambiance of old China permeated the entire place. I found a corner in the back and zoned out with my laptop, enjoying a cup of Yerba Mate. This was going to be a productive day, I could already tell. By four o'clock that afternoon I had most of my presentation finished, and I was floating from all the cups of tea.

After working, I took a stroll through the Lan Su Chinese Garden to clear my mind. The gardens were enchanting, and all my cares and worries were lifted as I took in the sights and sounds of this little slice of tranquility. In here I felt an amazing sense of Zen and I couldn't help but smile.

I headed back home, changed clothes, and grabbed a yoga class by my house to continue the Zen and inner calm. Yoga really helped with turning my mind off. Typically it was a flurry of Wesen, work, and music. Right now it was blank, and I was at peace as the instructor guided us through meditation. Rejuvenation ran all through me along the walk home. I was getting back into routine. Granted, this yoga studio was a little elementary compared to mine at home, but it was still nice to have someplace nearby to go. I reminded myself how incredibly self-sufficient I was and that I didn't need Jack or Monroe or any guy to be happy. The mantra would work at least for today.

Once home, I had some free time, so I worked some more on my training materials and paid a few bills. I was right; it had been a productive day. I glanced at the phone. No messages or texts. Wow, not even a phone call from Jack. I organized my contact list, and my speed-dial numbers. With a small grin, I added Monroe to my speed-dial. Perhaps it was a bit presumptuous, but that was all right, too.

I was working from home again tomorrow, but my boss had a meeting scheduled that I'd have to run to the office for. I was already ahead with the work I'd accomplished today. My thoughts traveled back to Monroe again before turning in early to bed. What could he and that Nick guy have discussed on the phone anyway? It wasn't my place, but I was too nosy not to get involved. If he zapped the joy out of Monroe, then I didn't like him. That was my last thought before falling asleep.

* * *

A/N: You can't have a story about Portland without mentioning Voodoo Doughnuts, right? Also, go Googling and check out the Tao Tea Shop on NW Everett St. That place looks amazing and when I do get a chance to see Portland I want to go have a cup of tea and take the gardens tour.

Renée needed a day to herself, but she won't be lonely for long, I promise. (;


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The next day I got home late from our meeting at work and collapsed on the couch, still in my dress clothes. My boss had failed to mention that the meeting he'd scheduled was for three hours. I should've just gone into the office to work instead of working from home. It had been utterly pointless to get dressed up for three measly hours.

By that evening, I'd scanned through the dramas of Facebook, had long conversations with family and Chloe, and caught up on three Jeopardy episodes. (Correctly responding to two of the three Final Jeopardy clues.) I hadn't heard from Monroe again. Whatever he and his buddy Nick were doing best not cause a rift between us. Oh, but I didn't want to stress over it. This thing, whatever it was, was too new to start worrying about. Still, a phone call would've been nice.

I went to the bedroom and eyed my flannel PJs. They were incredibly inviting. Ooh, my container of Rocky Road was in the freezer. It had been my ice cream of choice when life was crappy or whe I was feeling blue. The name said it all, and I'd had my fair share of rocky roads lately. I shook my head. No, ice cream wasn't the answer. Instead, I changed into a long-sleeved, paisley shirt and jeans. Maybe I'd go out tonight and do some exploring on my own. There was still much of Portland to discover, and sitting on my butt with Häagen-Dazs wasn't going to make me feel better in the long run. Although, I did have some chocolate syrup. No, Renée, it's not worth it. I sighed and headed back to the living room.

I turned on the TV and thumbed through the channels. _Beauty and the Beast_ was on. I had to laugh. Cable TV was seriously out to get me. I tuned over and it was at the ballroom scene. I kept it on since I liked the song. As I pulled my laptop out of its bag, I hummed along.

"_Tale as old as time,__  
__True as it can be,__  
__Barely even friends,__  
__Then somebody bends,__  
__Unexpectedly…"_

Monroe and I certainly weren't bending the way I'd expected. But I was as much to blame as he was. I hadn't told him the truth, and he wasn't sharing any Blutbad secrets.

"_Just a little change,__  
__Small to say the least,__  
__Both a little scared,__  
__Neither one prepared,__  
__Beauty and the Beast…"_

That line rang so true in many ways. A little scared and unprepared. Perhaps he was also a little scared of me, too. I was human after all. Terrible things could happen if he slipped up. Chloe was more than glad to remind me today as she ran through a list she'd made. She'd taken a creative license on a few items just for effect.

I tried to keep the negative thoughts out as I worked on my presentation. No thoughts of men, just training materials. I edited through a few rough drafts for a PowerPoint I was working on. I patted myself on the back for getting ahead on these projects. Now I wanted to keep it that way. At this rate I might get a day off.

An hour later there was a knock on my door. I gazed through the peep hole at Monroe on the other side with grocery bags in both hands. Well, this was unexpected. What was he doing with grocery bags?

I opened the door with a smile.

"Cooking 101!" he grinned, holding up the bags.

My smile widened. "Well, this is a surprise!" I said quickly, checking my hair on the wall mirror beside me. Thank goodness I'd decided against the flannel PJs.

"I know you'd mentioned learning some things in the kitchen, so I thought I'd stop by and we could, you know, make and have dinner... Uhh... together."

"Yes, but I was hoping you'd call first." I continued to smile as we hovered at the front door. Monroe didn't need to know how giddy I was that he'd shown up on my doorstep. He was bending unexpectedly, for sure.

"Oh." Monroe frowned slightly. "Well, if it's not a good time..." He let the grocery bags droop to his sides.

"No, it's fine." I grinned at him as I motioned him inside. "The house is just a little disheveled, so please don't mind the mess." The house wasn't too dirty, but I had my work sprawled out all over the coffee table.

"Good!" His face lit up. "'Cause I really didn't wanna take all this home."

Once Monroe was inside, I led him toward the kitchen. He emptied the contents of the grocery bags on the counter, and then poked around my kitchen to see what tools I owned. I had the very basics: measuring cups, mixing bowls and a food processor. I'd never even used the food processor. I only had one because my mom had insisted I needed it. Monroe seemed like it was sufficient for what he'd planned. I went into the living room, tidied up my coffee table, and put Mozart on the stereo for some background music.

"'Turkish March,' good choice," Monroe said approvingly when I came back into the kitchen.

"A man who knows his Mozart." I gave him an appreciative look. "Should be upbeat enough for cooking," I added.

So, Monroe the great teacher went through the steps of preparing a meal. He had ingredients for a baked mushroom risotto with caramelized onions. Meatless I suspected, but I was okay with that. We chopped and measured as the music changed to Mozart's 'Symphony #40 in G Minor.'

"So, did everything with your friend go okay the other day?" I asked while dicing the mushrooms and placing them in boiling water to steep.

"Oh, umm, yeah," Monroe replied, looking flustered. "It was fine." He was being vague, so I needed to ask better questions.

I moved toward the onions, chopping away. "Sounded like he had you a little upset on the phone."

"Yeah, well Nick is a little needy sometimes," Monroe replied, but he was smiling like that was an understatement. He put the chopped onions and garlic in a saucepan with some olive oil.

"Was it work related?" I asked, trying to sound indifferent but interested.

"His work, not mine." Monroe seemed to be weighing his words. "I'm like a consultant. You know, it's a little complicated to explain." A consultant for what? If it wasn't clock related, what could it be? Now I was just curious.

"I hope the complexity doesn't put too much strain on you." I placed my hand on his arm and rubbed it comfortingly.

He reached over, laying his hand on top of mine. "Really it's fine. Nick is just working some things out, and if I can help him, I will. Don't worry about me, I know my limits." Again, so vague. Not enough to figure out what this Nick guy was. Perhaps another Blutbad? My questions had just created more to be answered.

"Well, I want you to know you can talk to me." I smiled up at him. "I'm a pretty good listener."

He just silently nodded, staring at the pan for a minute or two. "You know, these onions are the perfect size," he said at last, turning a one-eighty on the subject. "You're pretty good with a knife," he added with a hint of a smile. "And not even a tear I see," he added, looking into my eyes.

"What can I say?" I smirked. "I have no remorse after the slaying of innocent onions."

He chuckled as he talked me through his cooking techniques. As far as the mystery of this Nick guy was concerned, I wasn't going to get any more answers tonight. I couldn't blame him for not sharing. I was doing the same thing with my own secrets. I was keeping plenty from him.

I worked with the rice while Monroe finished the cooking in the saucepan, adding some sauvignon blanc. We combined the ingredients together with fresh herbs into a pan to bake.

Pouring a glass of the sauvignon blanc for myself, I took a generous sip."Julia Child would approve." I flashed Monroe a cheesy grin and lifted my glass.

He laughed with a nod. "Yeah, well that's one way to enjoy cooking."

I prepped a salad while Monroe showed me his bruschetta recipe. Once the cooking segment was over, we gathered our finished products to my dining room table. Thank goodness it was finally getting some real use instead of a makeshift catch-all for work.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

"I can't believe how amazing this tastes considering it is a vegetarian dish," I commented as I took another large forkful of my second helping of the risotto. I was gonna be stuffed after this.

"Vegetarian doesn't mean it lacks substance," Monroe advised between bites.

"I'm becoming a fan." And I didn't just mean of Monroe's cooking. I tried the bruschetta, and the warm bread melted into my mouth. I made a pleasing noise in spite of myself.

"It's good isn't it?" Monroe said approvingly.

I gave him a wink. "Sinfully good."

Monroe surveyed the dining room area, and I followed his gaze to my yoga mat, which was still propped up on the coat rack by the front door. "You do yoga?" Monroe asked, and his eyes lit up.

"Sure do," I replied. "Back in Kentucky I went religiously. It's a great way to clear your mind, and I have way too many things cluttering it up it seems." I refilled my wine glass. "I found a studio by my house, which was fortunate, so I'm getting back into my routine again." Most men liked the thought of a woman who could do yoga. I was quite flexible. Jack enjoyed it immensely. Crap, I really had to stop thinking about Jack.

"What type of yoga do you practice?" he asked as he took a sip of wine. Most men didn't know there were _types_ of yoga, so now I was intrigued.

"Ashtanga mostly, but the studio here doesn't have that." I added a second slice of bruchetta to my plate. "They still do the potpourri of Hatha, which is nowhere near as intense, but the meditation has been therapeutic lately."

"Ashtanga is pretty hard core. I do Bikram myself." So, Monroe did yoga. Now this was getting interesting.

"Ah, hot yoga. Wow, that's dedication! Ashtanga produces an internal heat, but I'm not sure if I could handle Bikram." I was impressed. Monroe's lists of interests were surprising me more and more.

"Dude, the heat is the best part," Monroe replied. "It detoxes the body and the mind." I could handle some heat with Monroe. I bit my lip at the thought.

We talked more on yoga, and he suggested I give Bikram a try sometime. Maybe I would. If Monroe was going to do anymore cooking, I'd need the heat to burn off those calories.

We cleared dishes and took our glasses of wine to the living room. Mozart's CD was nearing the end of its second loop.

"Is there anything you can't do, Monroe?" I asked as I settled into the couch beside him.

"I'm not all that good at fishing." He shrugged. I had to laugh. I pictured him in the water in full wolf, grabbing at fish with his mouth.

"As a vegetarian, I'm sure that's understandable," I replied, taking a sip of wine.

He chuckled. "The fish appreciate my lack of skill."

"Oh, I bet they do." I said while staring into his eyes again.

I could get used to this; a man who could cook, who knew the titles of classical music, who could scare off weasels in bars, and made the best coffee this side of the west coast. The fact that he was a Blutbad was becoming a minor imperfection on the grand scheme of things. But we still had that conversation to discuss, and I was dreading it.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked. I'd been quietly thinking and hadn't realized it.

"Sorry, just enjoying the moment."

There was a hint of amusement on his face. "Well, don't nod off just yet."

I leaned into him slightly. "So, now that we've had a wonderful meal, what do you say I find a DVD and we watch something?" I would've turned on cable, but I didn't trust its wry sense of humor lately.

Monroe agreed, and I browsed my small collection, finally deciding on _The Secret Life of Walter Mitty_. It fit my mood right now. We were both pretending to be something we weren't.

I leaned into Monroe again as the movie started. He draped an arm over my shoulder. It was the most comfortable I'd been in a long time.

We watched Walter daydream about his heroic, adventurous life as his wife was at the beauty parlor. Monroe's ruse was just the opposite. He was pretending to be a typical human who was curled up on the couch with his… Well, with whatever I was to him.

"Interesting movie," Monroe commented as the credits faded on the screen.

"I figured you'd seen that one before," I said.

He removed his arm and sat up from his reclined position. "No, that one must've, you know, slipped through the cracks."

I got up to stretch my legs. "Thurber is better on paper, but I'm a sucker for Danny Kaye." I walked around the couch and rested my hands on Monroe's shoulders, massaging them.

"So, what are your plans this…" Monroe sighed as I moved my thumbs in circles down his shoulder blades. "Oh, that's really nice."

"This weekend?" I finished his sentence for him. "I have some presentation work to cover." I kneaded my knuckles down his back. "Deadlines are getting close."

"Oh, that's too bad, 'cause… Oh, God. Right there," he murmured. He couldn't complete his sentences.

"Yeah, deadlines are annoying, but I'm doing well with meeting them."

I followed the conversation between his sounds of pleasure. Moving back toward his shoulders, I concentrated on the space between them and up to his neck. The muscles were tense, so I worked my fingers in the small divot below his head, melting the tension out.

Monroe had stopped talking now and was just taking in the massage. He made a few pleasing noises here and there for effect. I smiled. He was enjoying every moment, it was obvious. Not to be arrogant, but I gave great massages.

I hummed Tina Turner's 'Stay Awhile,' and circled back down his shoulder blades pressing in, then I moved my hands forward, reaching over to his collar bone and chest. I traveled up his neck again, running my fingers up his hair line, lightly scratching as I massaged his scalp a little bit. Tracing my fingers back down, I gave a his shoulders a few short squeezes to indicate I was done.

"Dude, that was…" Yeah, he still couldn't complete his sentences. His eyes half closed and he let out a pleasing sigh.

I beamed his way as I sat back down on the couch beside him. "The cook deserved a tip."

"Your hands are like magic," he finally said. Oh, he hadn't seen anything yet.

"You mentioned something about this weekend?" I asked, directing him back to his thoughts.

"Oh, yeah." He rolled his shoulders, a planted grin on his face. "I wanted to see if you'd be free Saturday morning. Perhaps you could come over for coffee and, you know, we could go find something to do."

It was non-committal and also quite a few days away, so I replied, "Sure. Just call me, and we'll play it by ear."

"Good." Monroe nodded with a smile. "This weekend then." He quickly leaned over, kissed my forehead, and stood up, stretching his back out.

The fourteen year old angst crept up in my thoughts. I was used to getting much more for a massage than _that_. But it was late, and it wasn't apropos to press the issue. I stood as well and we said our goodbyes at the door.

"Thank you again for dinner and the lesson." I said as he walked onto the porch. "I'm nowhere near perfect, but I didn't burn the house down, either."

He laughed. "You did all right considering. Glad you enjoyed it."

"Goodnight, Monroe." We lingered at the door.

"Goodnight. I'll call you Saturday," he reminded me.

Monroe walked down the stairs to the driveway. I closed the door and leaned against it. So, we wouldn't see each other until the weekend. I was okay with that. It would give me time to focus on work. I reached up and touched my forehead. We really needed this relationship to go beyond Disney.

* * *

A/N: Hope you're enjoying this little tale!


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

I jumped three feet out of bed as my cell phone rang by my head. Rummaging with one hand on the night stand, I eventually located the phone.

"Hello?" I said, but it sounded more like, 'Hull oh?' When I was half-conscious my southern drawl came out all twangy.

"Renée?" A voice on the other end asked, sounding unsure if he had the right number or not.

"Huh? Yeah. Who's this?" Again it sounded more like, 'Woooze thees?'

"It's Monroe."

"Monroe." I sat up straight in bed, becoming fully awake. "Hi, good morning!" My work voice took over as all the southern vanished.

"Did I catch you asleep?" he asked. Yeah, well obviously.

"Uh, yeah." I rubbed my eyes so I could focus on the clock beside my bed. Seven in the morning, dear Jesus! "But I was just about to get up though."

"Geez, sorry. I, uh, didn't mean to wake ya," he said in a sheepish tone. "I just finished my workout and was going to head over to the Fessenden Farmer's Market across town. I wanted to see, you know, if you'd like to join me." He sounded hopeful that I'd respond with a yes. "Remember we talked about doing something Saturday morning?" he added.

"Yes," I replied, and Monroe let out a slight breath into the receiver. "I'd love that." I kept my voice chipper, trying to sound more awake. "Give me time to get ready, and I'll come by." When he'd said morning, he'd really meant morning. Yikes!

"You're gonna dig this place," Monroe told me. "It's, like, one of the best off-season places to find an array of different vegetables, fruits, spices and... Well, let's just say there's a lot of great stuff there, man."

"Is it outside?" I asked.

"No, no…" he replied quickly. "It's an indoor farmer's market. Too cold for all that. That's why it's an off-season site."

I nodded. Wait, he couldn't see that. Yeah, I was still sleepy. "Sounds good," I said aloud. "Looking forward to checking it out." Once I woke up, I would at least. "Just give me a little bit to get ready."

"Take your time. I'm gonna get cleaned up and have breakfast. See you soon."

I hung up the phone and rubbed my eyes once more. After a good stretch, I staggered out of bed and grimaced at my reflection in the mirror. Yeah, I looked just about as rough as I felt.

"Seven in the freakin' morning," I repeated and shook my head. Wasn't the phrase, 'The early bird gets the worm.'? I didn't recall any phrases about early wolves.

I took a long shower and managed to do something with my hair. There wasn't much time for breakfast, so I nuked a sausage biscuit from the freezer. I found a pastel blue, long-sleeved shirt in the closet. I could easily push up the sleeves in case it was warmer today. Not likely, but always good to be prepared. I opted for jeans since comfort trumped style today. Monroe seemed to wear jeans often, so it was okay to be a little lax. I located my white and baby blue sneakers. There, that coordinated at least. I finished it off with some light make-up. I gave myself a bright-eyed smile in the mirror. Yeah, it was convincing enough.

My eyes fixed on my violin leaning against the bookshelf. Maybe I could take it with me, and if he was up for it, we could play after our trip. Grabbing my black jacket from the coat rack, I made my way to the car with my violin and put it in the trunk.

Once in the car, I speed-dialed Monroe to let him know I was on the way. It had taken an hour and a half, but most of that time was just getting awake.

"Sorry it took me a little longer to get ready than I thought," I apologized after he answered the phone.

"It's okay, I'm just finishing breakfast. So, I'll see you soon?"

"Pulling out of the driveway now," I replied and hung up.

I plugged in my MP3 player to listen to along the drive. I needed some good music today... and a good cup of coffee. Monroe had mentioned coffee, right? I crossed my fingers that he'd remember his offer. His coffee made any day better.

The MP3 player shuffled my personal playlist. It wasn't labeled, but I knew it well. It was my Monroe playlist. All the songs that reminded me of him were on there. I'd been downloading songs since we first met at the Blue Moon Bar. I've always integrated my life with music. There weren't too many people in my inner circle that I didn't have a soundtrack for. Even acquaintances would get a theme song every now and then. (Slick the bartender, for example, was The Solids' 'Hey Beautiful.') Monroe's playlist was becoming a full discography.

First up on the shuffle was Anjulie's 'Boom.'

_"I'm getting myself in something I don't wanna,__  
__I'm getting caught up in him but I don't wanna..."_

I sang along. Those words fit so well right now. I didn't want to be involved with a Blutbad, but Monroe was intertwining himself in my life and I was completely caught up in him right now.

"_I'm telling myself it's not a good idea,__  
__But the more I hesitate the more I fall for him…"_

I knew it was crazy to associate with Monroe. Our flirtations were building, but by now we should've had at least one good kiss. Instead he was kissing me on the hand and forehead while I was kissing his cheek. If we ever got to… best not to think about it. The heat crept up my cheeks at the thought.

Next came Lenka's 'Trouble is a Friend of Mine.'

_"He's there in the dark,__  
__He's there in my heart,__  
__He waits in the wings,__  
__He's gotta play his part...__  
__Trouble is a friend of mine."_

Oh, yeah, Monroe was trouble and he was definitely finding his way into my heart.

_"Trouble is a friend but trouble is a foe, ohh, oh..."_

But was he a hero or a villain? Maybe he was both. My stomach clenched at the thought.

_"...But I'm a sucker for his charm."_

Monroe was no Blue Beard Casanova, but he had a genuine charm. That was for sure. His complete brilliance charmed the pants off me. There was nothing sexier than a man with a brain and Monroe's was chock full of knowledge. And those eyes (his human eyes) were soulful and deep with enthusiasm and kindness behind them. I let out a sigh in the car.

Duran Duran's 'Hungry Like the Wolf' started as I passed Monroe's mailbox. Obvious reasons for choosing this one. The intro music began as I pulled into the driveway. I turned off the car, headed up to the porch, and knocked.

Monroe answered the door with a warm smile. "Hey! Come in for a second," he said while motioning me inside. "I made you a cup of coffee. Sounded like you needed the pick-me-up." He grinned as I walked inside. Thank goodness he'd read my mind. I could already smell the aroma coming from the kitchen.

"Sorry about this morning," I said as he handed me a mug. I took a sip and let the flavors permeate my tongue. "I'm not used to phone calls that early unless they involve an emergency."

I drank in deeply as he replied, "Oh, it's all right. I was doing my workout routine this morning and then afterwards I thought you might enjoy this farmer's market. I thought, you know, it would be a great place to go for the weekend. I wasn't thinking about the time really." A clockmaker not thinking about time? Oh, Monroe, you amuse me.

The coffee had cooled enough that I drank the rest down quickly. "Thank you for the coffee; I needed something to wake me up." I washed out the empty mug in the sink.

"Let's head out then!" he said, widening his eyes and smiling that genuine smile I adored.

I looked up at him, grinning. "I need to get something out of my car first." We crossed the living room and I stopped midway to the door. "Oh, crap. I'm parked behind you." My mind was on other things when I'd pulled into the driveway. "I can drive though. It's always good to explore new roads in Portland. How far is this place?"

"I'd say around twenty to thirty minutes away," he replied, his hand cupping his chin. "But worth the drive!" he added brightly.

"All right then. I'll drive." I pointed to the door. "Follow me."

We walked to my car. Monroe was wearing a blue and black plaid shirt with a baby blue t-shirt underneath. The blue matched well with my shirt. The sweaters he wore were still my favorite, but the plaid was becoming a close second. I had to admit I'd missed him the last few days. We'd chatted on the phone a time or two, but I hadn't seen him since our cooking lesson.

I opened the trunk and pulled out my violin case, holding it up for Monroe to see.

"Maybe if we aren't too exhausted after the farmer's market we could play together?" I posed it as a question, giving him an 'oh, please can we' look.

"Dude, I was going to ask if you wanted to do that this week." His smile widened under his beard. "So yeah, I really want to hear you play. Let's take it inside."

Back in the house, I set the violin case next to Monroe's cello. "Veronica will be safe here," I said as the two set side by side.

Monroe laughed. "Veronica? The violin is named Veronica?"

"It's an old joke," I explained. "My friend Chloe and I were in orchestra together. She played the bass and I, of course, the violin. So we started calling her bass 'Betty' and my violin 'Veronica.' The name kind of stuck after that." I smiled at the memory. Goodness, I missed her right now.

"Betty and Veronica." Monroe laughed again. "You crack me up, man."

"I aim to please," I said, quoting Monroe.

We headed back to my Malibu and I tossed my jacket in the back seat. The heater and my sweater would be warm enough during the car ride. Once inside, I buckled up and smiled. Today was going to be an excellent day. I started the ignition.

_"Dark in the city night is a wire..."_

Duran Duran blared through the speakers. Holy Crap! I didn't turn my playlist off!

With practiced calm, I turned the music down a bit. "Umm, '80s music is a guilty pleasure," I said and forced a grin. Internally I was screaming, 'Crap, crap, crap!' If I turned the song off now, it would look suspicious, so I kept it on. As the melody played, Monroe shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"You okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's just… This seatbelt is a little tight," he said. Such a bad liar.

_"In touch with the ground,__  
__I'm on the hunt I'm after you..."_

The song played on as we drove. I sang along to the words.

"_Stalked in the forest too close to hide,__  
__I'll be upon you by the moonlight side,_

_Do, do, do… do, do, do… do, do, do… do, do, do… do… do, do…"_

Monroe was twitching a little more.

_"...and I'm hungry like the wooooolf!"_

I smiled and glanced over in his direction. His red eyes caught mine.

"It's cheesy, I know," I said, ignoring the red. Part of me found this fascinating. The more rational part of me was a nervous wreck, and a pit in my stomach grew. I had _a lot_ of songs on that playlist. The music shuffle was like a game of Russian roulette. There were songs on there that were sure to 'make me.' Florence and the Machine's 'Howl,' 'Lil' Red Riding Hood,' 'Werewolves of London,' 'Peter and the Wolf,' I had it all. My musical collection of _anything wolf_ had grown over the last few weeks. If any of these came on, I may as well stop the car and just hold my throat out right then and there.

Haydn's 'Concerto No. 2 in D Major' for cello played next, and I let out a small breath. This one was a little more ambiguous. Ever since I'd glimpsed Monroe's cello, I'd been downloading anything that had prominent cello music. I was drawn to this beautiful piece, in particular. Monroe relaxed as well and his eyes were back to chocolate brown with caramel hues.

"Do you know this one?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," he replied. "Quite well, actually." All the while he was directing me on the turns with hand gestures.

Haydn was on the last few notes. My heart threatened to stop each time one song ended and a new one began. The violin intro began on the next song and I knew it immediately. The Faint's 'Desperate Guys.' Monroe seemed interested and asked the title. I told him the song name and the band while the words began to play.

_"Was it more than attraction,__  
__And a physical lust?__  
__Her loins, my imagination,__  
__That first inconceivable touch.__  
__That I was planning, err...__  
__I mean wishing, err...__  
__How embarrassed I'd have been.__  
__If you knew what I was thinking, err..."_

Oh, how embarrassed I was! I was fighting a losing battle with my cheeks and they flushed uncontrollably. I tried to concentrate on my turns, but the song continued on...

"_I knew you knew I liked you.__  
__I knew you knew it…"_

Over and over it repeated the phrase until I wanted to climb under the car seat.

Monroe turned in my direction. "You okay?" he asked in the same tone I'd asked earlier.

"Just a little warm in here," I said. Dammit! I turned the heater down and rolled up my sleeves. Thank goodness I'd come prepared.

The song ended and I waited to see what would be next. The cello began and my pulse quickened up in my chest. 'Secrets' by One Republic. Wow, this whole song was laden with meaning. It was as telling as some of the others I'd worried about. Monroe was smart, but would he catch on to this?

"Beautiful cello intro," he commented. He wanted to know the title and artist again.

"You haven't heard this one before?" I asked as cool as I could muster. "It's one of my favorites."

"No, but I like it already," he replied. Oh, just wait until he heard the lyrics. Please don't be as smart as I know you are. The lyrics played…

_"I need another story,__  
__Something to get off my chest.__  
__My life gets kinda boring,__  
__Need something that I can confess…"_

Could it be any more obvious?

I waited to see if there was a reaction, but surprisingly I got nothing. The song continued.

"_This time,__  
__Don't need another perfect lie,__  
__Don't care if critics ever jump in line,__  
__I'm gonna give all my secrets away…"_

These songs were giving many secrets away. We drove on while the song played and I waited until the end. We were nearly there, and if his timeframe was correct, one more song and I'd be home free.

The music began and it was Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata.' (Moonlight, you get the reference.) Again, it was ambiguous enough to be okay. This one seemed to relax us both.

Monroe grinned at me. "You have an interesting variety in music."

"Oh, I'm just full of surprises." More than you're ready to know.

Monroe pointed to an open area. "There's Fessenden Market," he said.

Parking was pretty open and we found a spot with ease. Monroe got out quickly, shaking himself a moment. I turned off the ignition and unplugged my MP3 player, shoving it deep into my pocket. I'd survived this game of musical Russian roulette.

We walked inside and I tried to take in everything at once. 'Quite an array' was an understatement. It was filled with fruits and vegetables from all over. The shelves were stocked with an assortment of organics and items I really had no idea what they'd be used for. Monroe seemed familiar with the layout. We took our cart through the different isles, stopping every few moments for him to tell me about a certain item and what it was great for. The man was no stranger in the kitchen as he had already shown me. Me, I burned water even after the cooking lesson. I listened intently, but I was lost on most of the conversation.

My phone rang as he was telling me about making a light, clear caramel sauce and whisking in passion fruit.

"Hello," I said.

"Hey, Renée!" Chloe rang out. "It's been a few days since I've heard from you. I wanted to see if you've been on any more _dates_." The word 'dates' was loaded with distain.

"Hey, Chloe," I replied quietly, turning away from Monroe. "Uhh… Can I call you back? I'm out shopping."

"By yourself or with someone?" she asked, incredulously.

I paused."Uhh…"

"You're with _him_ aren't you!" she said loudly.

"Yes, and I really need to go."

"Renée, you need to stop this right now before you…" I hung up before she could finish her sentence. Blutbaden had excellent hearing, but was it good enough to hear Chloe on the other end? I couldn't risk it.

"Who was that?" Monroe asked casually.

"Oh, that was my friend Chloe from Louisville." I straightened the fruit in the cart. "She was just checking in on me."

"Mm-hmm," he nodded. His expression was unreadable. Had he heard anything? Maybe he wouldn't realize what Chloe had meant.

Once our shopping cart was full, we checked out. I drove us back toward Monroe's house and was doing a decent job remembering the turns.

"What, no more music?" he asked with a smirk.

"We're going to be playing music soon enough," I reminded him. I was finally going to hear him play the cello. I held in my giddiness.

Along the drive my eyes scanned the sky, searching for a glimpse of that yellow orb… What was it called again? I was starting to forget its name. I felt his eyes on me and I turned in his direction. Monroe watched me curiously.

"Sorry. I was searching for the sun," I answered the question on his face before he had a chance to ask it.

"Good luck with that one, man," he chuckled as he shook his head. "Looks like more rain on the horizon." He pointed to Mount Hood in the distance.

"How do you know that?" I asked, looking at the large, snowy capped peak.

"Well, if you can see Mount Hood then it's going to rain. If you can't see it…" He paused, giving me another smirk. "Well, then it's already raining."

"Oh, very funny," I teasingly scowled. "I see now why you became a clockmaker and didn't pursue Meteorology." I smiled at him for the joke, however.

Shortly afterwards, a few raindrops appeared on the windshield.

"Ah, you doubt my skills," Monroe smugly said while pointing to the raindrops accumulating on the glass. I wrinkled my nose at him. Sure, many animals could predict the weather, but I was wise enough not to say that comeback aloud.

* * *

A/N: Whew! So are you up to your eyeballs in music now? This has been one of my favorite chapters to write because like Renée, I'm all about music. I came up with this chapter the other day as I was listening to my MP3 player in the car and wondered what would happen if a supernatural creature listened to some cheesy human interpretation of what they really are. And Voilà, poor Monroe had to be subjected to Hungry Like the Wolf.

If you've never heard The Faint's "Desperate Guys", go to youtube now!

**Shameless Plug:** If you go to youtube, I made a Grimm music video dedicated to Monroe called "Grimm ~ Secrets." It uses the song "Secrets" by One Republic. Ever since Episode 4 when Monroe played the cello I pegged that song with this series.

The bit about Betty and Veronica is a true story. In middle school my friend and I dubbed our instruments that way.

I hope the Mt. Hood joke played off well. (;

The next chapter has the CELLO! *sigh*


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Once we were back, we unloaded the car and settled inside. After the food was stashed away in Monroe's kitchen, we made our way to the living room.

I eyed my violin and Monroe's cello sitting next to each other. "So are you ready to jam?" I asked with a smile.

"Dude, I've been thinking about it the whole ride back." His genuine smile spread across his lips. It was becoming his trademark.

Monroe moved his cello out to the center of the room ad I reached for my violin, taking it out of its blue, velvet lined case. It was old, but my grandfather had taken great care of it, and so had I. The chestnut varnish still had a good sheen, and the browns and reds swirled together under the light in the living room. Tightening the bow, I held the violin up to my chin and drug it across the strings, giving it a quick tune up.

"Let me hear your A string, so I can match up," I turned and requested.

Monroe positioned his cello between his legs and reached for his bow. The cello's rufous shades held the same hue as a glass of Bordeaux wine. He slowly moved his bow across the deep A string, and I matched the pitch with my violin.

"So what's your poison?" he asked once both instruments were tuned.

"Do you know 'Air' by Bach?" It was familiar by most. He started to play to answer my question. As he glided the bow over the beginning notes, his phone rang.

Monroe scowled and rolled his eyes. "Never fails," he sighed with an abrupt halt. Setting the bow down, he pulled the phone from his pocket. He held it for a moment, but then shut it off instead of answering it. "Not this time, Nick," he mumbled almost to himself.

Monroe set the phone down and picked up the bow again. He began to play the intro to 'Air.' I followed suit. The deep tones of the cello coupled with the high notes of my violin filled the room beautifully like they were dancing together. Like always, I became one with the music. Sometimes it was the one guiding me instead of the other way around. I trilled the notes as I went along. Monroe's eyes flared red as he watched me play. I took his reaction as a compliment. Once the song ended, I sat down on the couch.

"Just lovely…" he said and I nodded. "Now play me something on your own," he insisted with a slight grin on his lips.

I chose 'Spring' of the Vivaldi's Four Seasons. I memorized most music; it was just something I'd always been able to do. Once I heard a song a few times it was like it became a part of me.

I stood again and positioned the violin back to my chin. The high notes sang out from my instrument, imitating the birds in the springtime. I moved through each run flawlessly, the bow wildly cascading off the strings. My heart quickened to the intensity of the music, fluttering in time with the bow. Monroe was watching me intently like a cat about to pounce on a bird. Maybe I was imitating one too well. His eyes had a more sinister red and he was twitching. He seemed awfully close to having a full woge right here in the living room.

I had to close my eyes. His gaze was penetrating and uncomfortable. Even though I was good at not reacting to Wesen changes, trying to play and not react was too much of a challenge. So with my eyes closed, I continued the song. Every note moved through me and intensified as it burst forth. When I finished playing, I opened my eyes. Monroe was standing a of couple feet away, and his wolf was in full force.

"Whoa, okay." I flinched, but was able to respond without giving anything away. "Didn't know you had gotten up." I beamed a smile at him. Crap, I hadn't heard him move due to the music. "That's what I get for closing my eyes." I added, chuckling softly.

He shook off his woge and was back to smiling. "You have… It's just that… Man, that was killer!" he exclaimed, his smile widening.

"Thank you," I replied with a flush to my cheeks. "I was torn between playing 'Spring' or 'Winter.'"

"No, 'Spring' was beautiful… You are…" He stopped short on his words and just stared for a moment. Those eyes of his sparked red, but then faded back to brown as he finally sat down.

"Okay, now you," I urged and sat back down on the couch. "Dazzle me!"

Monroe moved his cello between his legs, flexing his hand before resting it on the cello's neck. He lightly held his bow in his other hand, rotating his wrist as he positioned himself. He played an excerpt of Strauss' 'Cello Sonata 1st Movement.' Low notes of vibrato echoed in the living room as he began. I loved the sound the cello made. The low tones reverberated and filled my ears. They were deep and rich like dark chocolate melting on my tongue.

The piece started slow, but then as it progressed, his pace picked up. Monroe had no problem moving in time with its speed. I leaned in while his bow glided with ease over each run. His fingers danced across the strings with meticulous precision. Back and forth, his hands slid along the cello's neck, never missing a note. He was so graceful. A graceful Blutbad. What an oxymoron! But there was no denying he had such passion.

Monroe caught me watching and grinned as he went into the next part of the song. The finger-work intensified, and I had to admit watching him was turning me on. I bit my lower lip as I imagined what else those fingers of his could do. He noticed my lip and his grin turned devilish. My cheeks immediately flushed. Crap, he could sense my arousal. Not all Wesen had that good of a nose, but of course a Blutbad would. A deep red burned in his eyes like fire, watching me as the music never faltered. He pressed the cello forward as he continued. The expression on his face hinted that he might toss the cello aside and pounce on me at any moment. My breath caught in my throat at that expression.

Once he was finished, I applauded. Oh, my. Now I loved the cello more than ever. That was just sexy. This song would be added to the Monroe playlist tonight, for sure.

"Not that good? Oh, come now!" I gushed. "That was beautiful."

"Not nearly as good as yours, man," he humbly replied. I was half expecting him to have another woge episode, but he remained in his chair.

My face reddened again. "Oh, you flatter me."

We finished off with a round of Pachelbel's 'Canon in D.' Again, the tones filled the living room and I adored every moment. His low notes and my high notes put me in a euphoric high. The fluidity of Monroe's bowing was in perfect rhythm to mine. We played like we had practiced together for years, like one unit. Jack didn't care for the violin. He'd joke that I ought to be playing Bluegrass instead of Classical whenever I practiced. I hated myself for letting Jack get into my thoughts again.

"We make beautiful music together," Monroe said as we finished. He was still giving me a seductive smile.

"That we do," I agreed, placing the violin back into its case while Monroe moved his cello to its corner. I glanced at the nearest clock on the wall. "Wow, it's only noon?" I said with mild surprise.

"That's what happens when you wake up early on a weekend." Monroe gave me a teasing smirk. "Would you like some more coffee?" he asked. He knew I'd say yes. But after that kind of music, I needed mine on ice.

Monroe worked his magic with the French press and we went back to the living room with our coffees. I was still a little hot and bothered from earlier, but whatever arousal Monroe had felt he'd seemed to have shaken off. Must have been nice.

We sat close on the couch as I kept my hands busy with my mug instead of placing them somewhere on Monroe. I was determined not to make the first move. I was old fashioned like that. Although, right now I was willing to overlook my scruples and take him right there on the couch. I played it out in my head for a moment and smiled.

"Did you hear me, Renée?" Monroe asked, snapping me out of my daydream.

"Huh? Sorry, I was just thinking of something," I replied, trying not to bite my bottom lip again. I leaned into him, balancing my coffee on my knee. "What did you say?"

"There are a few places I'd like to share with you this week if you're free after work."

"Sure, I can be available." I was curious now, so I leaned over to face him. "So, what kind of places are we talking about?' I inquired.

"Surprises!" He replied and his eyes twinkled.

I was starting to enjoy Monroe's surprises.

* * *

A/N: So even in this story, Nick has cello radar. (;


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

The next few days became ritual. I'd get home from work, and by six o'clock Monroe had called and we were off to do something together. On Monday he had a quaint little bookstore he wanted to show me. We took in an early show at the Kendall Planetarium the next day since I'd worked a half day. There was a Monet exhibit at the Portland Art Museum the day after that. Things I'd wanted to do for years with Jack were all scheduled out in less than a week with Monroe. There was never a dull moment. He had only taken one day off from us. He had a dinner date with his buddy Nick yesterday. I'd wanted to ask more about it, but I didn't question it.

I felt closer to Monroe than I had with anyone I'd ever dated, but we still hadn't labeled our outings as dates. It was the most frustrating relationship I'd ever been in. Platonic or not, we flirted and bantered, but there was no talk of anything more than that. Most days I wanted a Danielle Steele novel, but we were getting the slow chapters of Nicholas Sparks.

As promised, I'd kept Chloe in the loop. Although she'd never come right out and say it, she was happy Monroe wasn't making any advances. I was less than happy about that. I really needed my best friend to vent to, but she was content with telling me that maybe Monroe was just a flirt.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

The phone rang as I was opening my front door. I juggled the phone and the house keys to answer it before it stopped ringing. Monroe's name was on the cell display. He was calling earlier than usual.

"So, there's a wine tasting tonight at The Wine Cellar, if you'd like to go," Monroe said on the other end of the phone.

I pulled off my dress shoes, walked over to my couch, and reclined. "With the day I've had, I'd like to do more than taste it." I let out a soft sigh.

"Oh, that can be arranged, too," he replied, and I imagined that devilish grin. "I'll pick you up in half an hour." He hung up before I had a chance to object.

I really wasn't in a mood to go out tonight, but a couple of glasses of wine would dull the senses, and I could use the company. Fortunately, I didn't have to work tomorrow. If Monroe was driving, well I could have more than a couple of glasses of wine, then.

Going through my closet, I searched for something to wear. It might be nice to dress up for a change. I'd bought a blue, chiffon cocktail dress from Squirrel Girl last week and pulled it out. Lately I'd been going everywhere in jeans. I worked quickly with the thirty minutes I had to freshen up. My multi-tasking was on overdrive as I applied make-up while locating my blue heels that matched my dress perfectly. I pinned up my hair and had enough time to spare to run a curling iron over a few strands in the front. I admired my work in the mirror. Yeah, I felt better already.

A few moments later the doorbell rang. I was humming 'Devil in a Blue Dress' as I opened the door. Monroe took a step back, his eyes moved down my outfit.

"It's a wine tasting, not a gala," he said, but then added quickly, "Not that I'm complaining though, you look ravishing!"

"Thanks," I replied. "Let me just get my jacket and purse, and I'm ready to go." I grabbed both items and locked the door.

"You know, I wish you'd said you were dressing up, dude," he commented, looking down at his black and white plaid shirt with a black undershirt and jeans.

"I can change if you want," I offered.

"No, no, no!" he quickly replied, waving the suggestion off. "That's not necessary." But he had that same sad, puppy dog look as he did before when we went to the symphony.

We headed to the VW, and I watched the road as we drove to The Wine Cellar. The weekend was upon us and people were piling up the roads as the traffic mounted.

There was a good crowd when we arrived at The Wine Cellar and I was feeling in a lighter mood. This was more than just a simple wine tasting event. Couples were dancing to a jazz melody I was unfamiliar with, which was a rare thing. The live band must have been playing something original.

"I haven't danced in ages," I said aloud as Monroe and I walked further inside. "Do you dance?" I asked, turning in his direction.

Monroe grinned slightly. "Yeah, I can cut a rug." Cut a rug? Was he in his eighties or his thirties?

I cast him a warm smile. "Well, we may have to get out the scissors tonight and do some cutting."

We started with a few dry whites and then moved to sweet reds. Monroe's highly tuned palate distinguished flavors and tannins from some of these bottles that I didn't taste at all.

"Oh, this one is definitely a 1995," he said as he breathed in deep into his glass. "I don't even have to sample it to know. I remember having a bottle of this a few years ago when…" He trailed off. "Sorry, the oenophile in me comes out every now and then."

"No, please continue," I said. "The way you can determine wine just by scent alone is…" I groped for the words that wouldn't be all-telling. "… extraordinary," I finished after a brief pause.

"Eh, you sorta get a nose for the bouquet," he replied, tapping his nose as he spoke. "These olfactories are a bit acute." That was an understatement. The better to smell wine with? That wasn't how the story went.

He took a sip, making a sour face. "They didn't let it breathe long enough." He set his glass down. "What a shame."

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

I left Monroe's side briefly to scope out a selection of wines on the other side of the store. They had quite an inventory. As I was reading the label of a 2008 Mount Veeder Cabernet Sauvignon, I had a funny feeling. Was I being watched? I turned, but there was no one behind me. Monroe was still across the room, engrossed in a conversation with a guy who was showing him his pocket watch. I turned back and continued reading the labels, shrugging it off.

I moved to the next shelf. There it was again. I felt eyes on me like they were burning against my skull. I turned more quickly this time. Still no one there. Now I was just paranoid. I shook my head and resumed looking at the wine shelves.

There were footsteps behind me, then a familiar voice said in my ear, "Renée."

I spun around and standing in an Abercrombie and Fitch shirt was my ex. "Jack!" I exclaimed. "What the hell?"

"I told you I was coming to Portland," he said still smiling from ear to ear.

"But what are you doing _here_?" My face had to look pretty dumbfounded.

"I came to see you so we can work things out. Your mom told me where you were living, so I headed to your house tonight." I was going to have to give my mother a stern talking to! "But as I was pulling up on your street, I saw you get into that piece of shit car with that guy. So I followed you, and here I am." He sounded proud of himself like he'd done something really grand. Had he been here this whole time? My stomach flipped at the thought.

"You don't just show up like this unannounced," I hissed, trying to keep my voice level, but I wanted to scream right now.

"If you'd answer your phone when I call you'd have known I was coming." He gave me a smug grin.

Oh, no… the voicemail! Jack had left me that stupid voicemail after Monroe had dropped me off from the symphony. I didn't take it seriously. But here he was, and I was almost beside myself with anger.

I peeked through the crowd to see that Monroe was still talking to Mr. Pocket Watch. "You followed me here?" I whispered and pulled him to the side, so that Monroe wouldn't see. "Who follows someone like that?"

"The better question would be, who's your lumberjack friend?" he asked, pointing to Monroe.

I pulled his hand down, furrowing my brow. "My friends are none of your business, Jack. So why don't you kindly hit the road and let me enjoy my evening."

Jack's green eyes stared into mine with intent on doing whatever it took to get me to pay attention to him. He always had to be the center of attention. And I thought Leos were the drama queens.

"You haven't been returning my calls or my texts," he replied after a moment. "I fly all this way here, and now you're telling me to leave?" His voice was getting louder, and a few people were starting to stare. Jack was trying to play a martyr, but I wasn't having any of it.

"Jack, this is neither the time nor the place to be having this discussion. Go!" I said again. I wasn't asking this time.

"Why?" He put on a smug grin. "Don't you want your date to see his competition?" He was inches away from my face now, breath reeking of Jim Beam. Oh, this wasn't going to end well.

"Competition? There's no competition." I hissed. "You're not in a race or a game, and I'm not some prize. We are over, and this conversation is over." I pointed at the door. "Jack, just go."

"You okay, Renée?" Monroe's voice came from behind me. He put his hand on my shoulder and eyed Jack. Crap! Could this night get any worse? It could, but I'd get to that later.

"Yes, I'm just fine," I replied, reaching for Monroe's hand.

"This is my replacement now, huh?" Jack scoffed, staring up at Monroe. "Where did you find this guy, out in the woods chopping down logs?"

Monroe looked down at Jack, who was all of five-foot-eight, and asked, "Who are you again?"

"Oh, so she didn't tell you about me?" Jack looked back in my direction, crossing his arms. "Renée, you didn't mention what you had back home?"

"Jack you're drunk, and you're making a fool of yourself." I sighed outwardly as a small crowd formed nearby. Just perfect. All Jack needed was an audience, and he'd really start acting out.

"Oh, so now I'm a fool?" Jack grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me next to him. I almost fell in my heels. He leaned in and planted a kiss on me. "Don't you miss that, babe?" he said with a sharp laugh.

Monroe's eyes flared red at the spectacle. He pulled me away from Jack, and then he faced my jerk of an ex head on. His body swelled to full height.

"I don't know who you think you are, dude, but I suggest you turn around and walk out of here before someone gets hurt, _capiche_?" Monroe's voice was deepening, and he obviously meant every word.

The whole place was watching now and Jack was still laughing.

"And just what do you think _you're_ gonna do about it if I don't?" Jack taunted at Monroe. Oh, crap. This was gonna get ugly.

"Hey man, you really need to rethink your words right now," Monroe warned. He was trying to give Jack every opportunity to just leave, but I knew Jack. The more Monroe talked, the more Jack was going to try to stand up to him.

Just then, Jack swung his fist. Monroe caught it mid-punch, grasping his hand in his own. Jack cried out just a little since Monroe was squeezing his hand pretty hard. Jack, being the poor loser, tried to punch Monroe with his other fist, but Monroe was already one step ahead. He pinned Jack's hand behind his back, and Jack was forced to the ground. The crowd was active now. There were gasps and commotion all around.

Monroe's features were changing quickly as he held Jack down. Jack the fighter never gave up. He spat, cursed, and yelled out, but Monroe had him restrained. There was evil in Monroe's eyes, and I recalled the Blutbad from the mall. One false move and Monroe could easily snap Jack in two. It scared me, not for Jack's sake, but that Monroe had the capability to do it.

"Renée, you gonna let him do this to me?" Jack called over in my direction. The crowd turned for my response.

I held my head in my hands. It was a nightmare, it just had to be. Maybe I'd just wake up in my bed and all this would be over. I glanced back up at Monroe, who was giving me an 'it's your call what I do next' look.

"Jack, you did this to yourself," I said loudly. I had to restrain my recklessness from going over there myself and giving him a swift kick in the head. "Just leave before the cops come. Get on whatever plane you got off of, and let me live my life." I turned and walked outside.

Steam was coming out of my ears as the doors closed behind me. How dare Jack do this! I wanted to cry or scream, but I was too upset to choose which one would make me feel better. The night air numbed my skin, and I closed my eyes. There were whirls of sirens in the distance. Maybe someone really _had_ called the police?

A few moments later someone touched my shoulder, startling me.

Monroe was by my side, giving me a concerned look. "When I let him up, he kinda darted out the back entrance," he said. "So, umm, that's your ex, I take it?" He strained a smile. It was awkward, but he was trying to keep me calm.

"I'm so mortified right now! Who follows someone like a stalker? Oh, Monroe, he knows where I live!" This was worse than any Big Bad Wolf knowing my address. Jack was vindictive. I didn't want to even imagine the things he might do.

"I can keep you safe," Monroe replied while pulling me toward him. I leaned my head against his chest. This was the closest I'd ever been to holding Monroe. I breathed in his woodsy, spicy mystery cologne as his arms wrapped around me. Jack wasn't going to get the best of me, so I held back my tears.

"My ex is a little crazy, too," Monroe said with a short chuckle, "but that's why they're exes for a reason." He let out a deep sigh. "Hopefully you never run into her." His body shuddered as I continued to hold him.

I looked up at Monroe. "I apologize for all this. This was supposed to be a wonderful evening and now…" I shook my head as my words faded.

"You didn't plan on this happening," he reasoned. "And we can still have a good night. Let me take you home and we'll crack open a bottle of wine there."

I breathed out heavily, trying to let the practiced calm wash over me, but it didn't want to happen tonight. "Guess I can mark this place off my list of return visits," I said, trying to make a joke to clear the air.

Monroe smiled. "Yeah, good thing there are other places to buy wine." He gave my hand a comforting squeeze.

We walked back to his car. As he opened the passenger side for me, I slumped into the seat. He walked around to the driver's side and turned the radio on low. Chopin's 'Nocturne in E Flat Major' played softly in the VW. By now he knew that music soothed me more than anything.

"Human beings are morons," I said on the drive back. I should've said, 'people.' I needed to watch my words. Did he pick up on that? I gave Monroe a sideways glance.

He nodded but didn't question the statement.

While Monroe drove us back to my house, I hummed 'Hit the Road Jack,' but this time I was completely conscious of what I was humming. Monroe chuckled lightly and shook his head at me, but he seemed to understand completely.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

Monroe went inside the house first just to make sure there was nothing out of sorts.

I stood on the porch, holding myself as I tried to keep my thoughts clear.

"Looks fine," He said once he returned and stood in the doorway. "Let's go in and have our own wine tasting." He gave me a wink.

Three bottles later it was nearing midnight, and I was feeling pretty good.

"Monroe you are my knight in a shining VW," I said with a dopey grin. I was back to having no inner monologue.

Monroe smiled under his beard. "I don't know about that." He scratched his chin. "I'm not much of a do-gooder."

"Well, you could've fooled me," I replied. "You've been saving me since I met you." I wasn't used to needing this much saving. Actually, I was pretty resilient back home. Portland had turned me into a helpless, angsty gal. Was Monroe getting tired of having to rescue me so much? I'd be pretty tired of it. "A good hero is a modest one," I added.

I lay on the couch, my head resting in Monroe's lap, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. I started humming 'Holding out For a Hero' by Bonnie Tyler as Monroe stroked my hair.

"There you go humming again," he mused.

"Bad habits," I sighed contentedly. His hands felt so good. If I could've purred I would've. I may not have been Wesen, but I was a Leo, and I enjoyed someone giving my hair attention.

I sat up and then managed to get on my feet. I crossed the room to my bookshelf, turned on the stereo, and put in my CD of 'The Best of Eric Clapton.'

I smiled as I turned toward Monroe. "You owe me some rug cutting, Mister."

Monroe looked up at me from the couch. "Oh, I dunno about that." Was he trying to play off that he didn't remember?

"Come on," I said, holding my hand out to him. "I haven't danced in forever."

Monroe stood up from the couch and made his way toward me. He took my hand gently, and then wrapped his other arm around my waist. I rested my head on his chest while we swayed to Clapton's 'You Look Wonderful Tonight.' The dancing started slow, but then Clapton's 'Bad Love' began. Monroe surprised me as he effortlessly took the lead, and we moved about the room. I thought back to Beauty and the Beast. The living room wasn't nearly as beautiful as a ballroom in a castle, but it was as close as I was going to get to a fairy tale tonight.

Even in my four inch heels I was still a few inches shorter than Monroe. I stared up into his eyes, which between the brown and flickering red had almost a russet color. "So, what do we have going on here?" I asked aloud. I was back to being bold and chatty. "You know I adore you, right?" There I'd said it. I'd have to watch what else I said, but I could say that easily.

Monroe blinked a few moments, taking in what I'd said. "And I… adore you, too," he finally replied. Well, now we were getting somewhere! But he hadn't answered my question.

I smiled and rested my head back on his chest as the music switched to 'Layla' and we were swaying again. His cologne soothed me, and in that moment I forgot about the events at The Wine Cellar. I wanted to kiss him, but I was back to being fourteen and angsty. Why was this so hard? I'd made out with people I could care less about. But with Monroe I was content just being this close to him.

Toward the end of the song he dipped me backward, his trademark smile casting down at me as he hovered. The flickering in his eyes stopped as it landed on red. He leaned in slowly. I anticipated his lips on mine, and my eyes slid closed. A loud noise outside startled us both, and with one quick motion I was back up again.

We turned our heads toward the back door through the kitchen. "Maybe it's just a raccoon," I suggested, knowing full well it wasn't.

"That's no raccoon," Monroe's voice grated as he replied. He went into a woge and ran to the back door.

I grabbed my Louisville Slugger from the mount on the wall, preparing for the worst as I went into the kitchen. There was another male voice besides Monroe's coming from outside. Oh, Jack, why did you have to come here?

I staggered to the door in time to see Monroe and Jack struggling out in the back yard. It was a mishmash of Abercrombie and plaid rolling through the yard. I walked out to the patio, gripping my bat tightly. I was too drunk to stand, much less protect myself. Here I was in a chiffon dress and heels, holding a baseball bat. How silly I must have looked.

The growls from Monroe were vicious. Jack was screaming obscenities, pulling and punching whatever he could, but he was obviously losing this battle. I stumbled back into the house and dialed 911. Was I protecting Jack or trying to get him arrested? Either way I had to do something. The dispatcher said they would send a patrol car immediately.

I walked back out and yelled to both of them, "The police are on their way." That seemed to slow them down, and Monroe held Jack back on the ground.

"You're such a whore!" Jack called out to me. At his words, Monroe unceremoniously punched him in the face. Monroe looked into my eyes and I nodded, letting him know that I condoned the punch wholeheartedly.

"Looks like that boxing I did in college paid off after all," Monroe said with a smile.

Jack was out for the count, lying on the ground when the police arrived. We were able to explain that we were defending ourselves, so Monroe was safe from any persecution. The officers took Jack into custody, carrying him to the patrol car.

Once the police left, I collapsed on the couch. My head was spinning from the alcohol and the events of the night. Monroe's plaid shirt and jeans had quite a few dirt stains. He took the top shirt off, leaving his black undershirt. It was the plainest I'd ever seen him.

"Monroe I'm so sorry," I said for the hundredth time tonight. Monroe held me again. "Leave your shirt, and I'll launder it," I offered. I had to fight with my drunkenness not to ask him to leave the pants, too.

Monroe shook his head while frowning. "You can't blame yourself for that redneck."

I laughed that he used the term redneck. "Maybe he'll find himself a boyfriend in jail tonight," I laughed again, trying not to cry.

Monroe's cell phone rang, and he stood up to answer it. "Hey, man... No, it's cool." He paused and looked at me a moment.

I pointed to the hallway behind us, and he walked off. I closed my eyes and listened. The hallway had an echo and Monroe's side of the conversation carried pretty well.

"…Yeah man, her ex showed up while we were out, and then followed us back to her place… Yeah, they just took him about twenty minutes ago… No, dude. His arms are fine. That's not funny, Nick."

What was that about Jack's arms? Perhaps Monroe had broken someone's bones in his last fight. He did have those battle wounds on his face when I'd brought him the cuckoo clock a few weeks ago. Maybe Monroe got into fights pretty often.

The conversation went into something about missing body parts and children. I held my ears at that point. I didn't want to know what they were discussing. The negative thoughts would creep back in, and right now I needed Monroe the hero, not the villain.

Monroe returned a few moments later. "Sorry, that was my, uh, friend Nick." He sat back down on the couch beside me. "Nick, uh, heard what happened over the police scanner and, you know, wanted to make sure we were all right."

"So is he a cop?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Monroe hesitated. "Well, he's a detective for the Portland police."

"Oh," I simply replied.

So, the mysterious Nick was a detective. More of the puzzle was opening up. What could Monroe be helping a cop with? My head was too fried to try to put these jigsaw pieces together tonight. Did this Nick guy know where I lived? They just said addresses on police scanners. Did they mention Jack being unconscious after they'd left? Maybe they had, since Monroe had punched Jack pretty hard.

"Why don't you head on to bed, and I'll sleep on the couch tonight in case you need anything," he offered, taking my hand and placing a swift kiss on top.

I didn't protest, although I was close to asking him to kiss me other places and sleep with me in the bedroom. The drunkenness was wearing off, because I'd actually said that to myself.

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, lingering slightly. I could kiss him there just fine, but if I tried to do more with him… Oh, I just needed to shut my brain up and go to sleep. "Thank you, hero," I murmured near his ear, before leaning back and lifting myself off the couch.

Once I'd made it to my bedroom, I passed out pretty quickly, dreaming about Monroe having Jack on a silver platter with an apple in his mouth.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

The next morning I awoke to an empty house. Monroe had already left. There was a note on the coffee table.

**I meant what I said last night.**  
**M.**

What did he say? He adored me? He'd keep me safe? So vague, Monroe. So incredibly vague. I wanted to crumple the paper up, but I set it back down. I called Chloe. I needed to talk to someone about what had happened last night.

"Jack did what?" Chloe gasped as I told her about my visitor from Kentucky.

"Yeah, he came to Portland to 'work things out.' Apparently my mom gave him my address here. I'm going to have to send her a thank you card for this one," I said sarcastically.

"She doesn't know Jack is nuts. Your mom was just being her typical self."

"Interfering?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Chloe chuckled. "But, in her own way she did it because she loves you."

"Yeah, well she needs to find new ways to love me," I scoffed.

"So what did he do?" Chloe asked with concern.

I told her about the scene at the wine tasting, Jack following us back to my house, and heroic Monroe.

"He punched Jack in the face when he called me a whore," I said, replaying the scene in my head and smiling. "Knocked him out cold."

"Monroe did?" Chloe gasped. It was the first time she'd actually called him by his name without disdain in her voice. Maybe this was a good sign? "Well, I might have some newfound respect for the guy."

I told her about the police, and I mentioned Monroe's friend, Nick the detective.

"So, he's helping a cop? I'm not getting what he could do for the police," she said, and I agreed with her.

"What else in the Wesen world would a Blutbad associate with?" I asked Chloe.

"Blutbaden really don't play well with others," she replied. "They usually stick to their own kind. But your guy is making up his own rules, so who knows what he might be doing?" Chloe sounded as clueless as I felt.

"I'm going to tell Monroe everything," I said. I waited to see if Chloe was going to yell, but she didn't.

"You should tell him, Renée. If he's really how you've describe him, then he deserves to know the truth." I was pleasantly surprised I was getting her support.

"If Monroe stays in my life, are you going to avoid visiting?" I asked.

"One thing at a time," Chloe stressed. "Let's see how he takes your news first, and we'll go from there, okay?" She clicked her teeth a few times. "You've got to tell him carefully though. He may not react well. You can't be reckless this time." Again, she knew me so well.

As I got off the phone with Chloe, I picked up the note again off the coffee table. I tried to read more into the few words that were there. I flipped it to the back. Maybe there was a hidden symbol or something that would give me a better understanding, but no, it was just a note.

I needed to clear my head, so I wore my red hoodie, and went out for a long run. Who cared if there were Blutbaden out there? I just needed to escape for a while.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for all the comments! I love reading each one! (:

There are 9 chapters left, stay tuned!


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

My mind was in a flood of thoughts as I ran through the wooded area by my house. I turned up my MP3 player to its highest volume setting, but my thoughts were still louder. My brain was stuck on overdrive, so I let the thoughts trickle out.

I was tired of this. I was tired of hiding from Monroe. He had stuck his neck out for me time and again, and he deserved to know the truth. But I deserved to know one last thing before I put it all out there. I needed to know if he could control himself with me.

It was easy to make-believe that Monroe was this sweet, socially awkward guy, but deep down he was innately a deadly creature who had struggled every day to conform. He undoubtedly had a past that I didn't want to know a thing about, or my fears would become fact. I was willing to bet he'd put the terms 'rebel' and 'bad boy' to shame. I had to commend him though. It couldn't be easy to live a human life when everything that walked by was potentially dinner. But Monroe had said that he'd been a vegetarian for ten years, so he'd been working at this for a while.

Had he ever had a human girlfriend? Would I be his first? Could you actually date something you might eat? (I'd look pretty funny dating a chicken.) Maybe that was why we had this platonic relationship. Maybe he knew if he kissed me (or did more with me) his Blutbad nature would take over, and I wouldn't be safe. That was why I'd been reserved myself on occasion. But last night, if it hadn't been for Jack, he was going to kiss me. My heart fluttered at the thought of his lips on mine.

It was settled. I had to test him, and the only way to be sure was with red. The red jacket I'd worn when I'd brought him my cuckoo clock had been controlled. It had been removed quickly, and I didn't do anything in the short time I had it on. Red needed to be worn again, and this time I'd give him a good test with it. If he could control himself, then I'd feel comfortable coming clean. I still hadn't formulated a plan on how to approach the subject yet.

I'd told Wesen what I could see before, and actually, quite a few back home knew my secret. But I'd never had to tell a potential boyfriend what I could see. Even Jack had no clue, and we were together for four years. But it was different trying to tell humans than it was telling Wesen. Honestly, I'd given up trying to convince humans that creatures existed long ago. While Wesen already knew about the 'other world,' humans just thought I was nuts because they couldn't see it. Thankfully, Monroe wouldn't need convincing of the 'other world,' but he would need convincing that I wasn't one of the things set out to kill him.

And then there was this Nick guy… or whatever he was. Was he Wesen? How was Monroe linked to a cop? He'd mentioned being a consultant. He'd even had the guy over for dinner. I couldn't make the pieces fit, and it was bugging me. I usually could figure out puzzles, but this one wasn't clicking. If they were friends, I'd probably have to convince him, too. The news would spread if I had to start explaining it to all his friends. But aside from Nick, I hadn't heard about anyone else. Perhaps it would be a short list.

I kept running through the woods, my thoughts jumbling in my head. The music switched to Sam the Sham's 'Lil' Red Riding Hood' as if for effect. Crap, I was getting lost out here.

"Spooky old woods… Just great," I said aloud. I headed back. It was getting late, and I was only being sarcastic when I'd said I didn't care if there were Blutbaden out here. They weren't all mild-mannered clockmakers.

I ran back with one thought still on my mind: How was I going to reveal this all to Monroe?

I took out my headphones. "So Monroe, I really appreciate you going all Blutbad on my ex," I spoke aloud. Yeah, that sounded just about as corny as I thought it would. That was no way to spill the beans. There was still a chance he would think I was a Grimm, and that never went well when a Wesen thought that. He might lash out, convinced this was all one big setup. No, I needed to consider this better. It would have to be planned out, rather than 'I see what you are there, Monroe.' I sighed. My brain was working overtime, and I was pretty cold. Fortunately, I found my way out of the woods, and this Red Riding Hood was safe for another day.

I'd left my cell phone on the coffee table, and it was blinking when I returned from my run. I should've taken it with me. Considering I almost got lost in the woods, it would've been nice to have some form of communication. I definitely needed to be more careful.

The display on my cell read one missed call from Monroe. I listened to the voicemail he'd left.

"It's Monroe. I rented a movie. Why don't you come by and watch with me?" Short and sweet. Perhaps this was as good of a time as any to test him. My woge of recklessness was coming out.

I called him back and let him know I was getting ready to come over. "I'll bring a bottle of Merlot. You like red, right?"

* * *

A/N: You ***DO NOT*** want to miss the next chapter! Stay tuned...

Thank you all for the comments! I love reading them! (:

8 chapters left!


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

I was playing with fire, but I wore the red low-cut sweater anyway. I wanted to test Monroe, and it was going to be tonight. Once my recklessness hit, formulating a plan was a waste of time. My woge demanded action first and suffered consequences later. I was definitely putting myself at risk with this decision, but it was now or never.

I asked my reflection in the mirror, "Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

I nodded back and admired my work. I was wearing one of my black lace Victoria Secret bras under the sweater. The cleavage alone would drive even an average guy crazy. My skirt from the Blue Moon Bar worked well to show off my legs, and my shiny, red heels made my legs look even longer than they already were. I'd curled my hair and put on just enough make-up to resemble a vixen. Well, not a real Fuchsbau, but the human equivalent. The red lipstick completed the look. Yeah, I was pretty sexy. I added my ruby necklace just for good measure. Poor Monroe. He didn't know what was headed his way.

I grabbed a gray hoodie to cover it all up. If I was going to do this, then I wanted him to have no notice. When the jacket came off, the red sweater would be right in front of him. If he could control himself through that, then maybe we'd have a chance to be together. But what if he couldn't? Was I ready for that kind of death wish? I shuddered, trying to push the negative thoughts aside.

"Hero or villain?" I asked aloud. I was planning on finding out tonight which way the scales would tip. I zipped up the jacket, checked my hair and make-up one last time, grabbed a bottle of Merlot, and headed out the door.

I hummed 'Lady in Red' on the drive to Monroe's, the practiced calm washed over me in waves as I centered myself.

"You can do this," I repeated over to myself a few times in the car. "It's going to work out fine and dandy." Yeah, I didn't believe it either.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

I arrived on Monroe's doorstep, gripping the bottle of Merlot in one hand and adjusting the hoodie with the other. I knocked, holding my breath until he answered the door. Monroe smiled, eyeing the bottle and then eyeing my legs. He was wearing a green and brown plaid shirt with a white t-shirt underneath. He must have bought stock in plaid. I missed the sweaters, but there was no denying he wore the plaid well.

He took the wine bottle graciously as I stepped inside, his familiar cologne wafted through the hall. "Let me take your jacket," Monroe offered and I stopped him.

"I'm a little cold," I said, reaching for the top of the zipper, "so I'll keep it on for now." I forced a smile, trying to maintain my practiced calm, but my pulse accelerated as I walked past him.

He shrugged and followed me into the living room. "Okay, dude, but it's really not that cold in here," he said behind me. I turned as he examined the wine label. "Tua Rita, 'Redigaff.' This is a high quality bottle," he remarked, looking up at me. "You have good taste, man."

"I know what I like," I replied. "Even if it's risky," I added quietly.

"What was that?" he asked, tilting his head toward me.

"Pricey," I said quickly. "Even if it's pricey."

His brow furrowed. Oh, he'd caught what I'd said, but he didn't say anything about it. Instead he said, "I'm gonna grab two glasses. If you want, you can put the DVD in." He pointed at the case on the coffee table as he went toward the kitchen. "Have you seen _Les Miserables_ before?"

"Yes, but that's fine though," I muttered back as I plopped down on the gold couch, half listening.

I tugged at the top of my jacket, closing my eyes, and second guessing my hair-brained idea for tonight. Maybe it would be fine. He seemed in control. It would probably be like the red jacket and he'd be able to get over it. Still, I wasn't convinced with my conclusions. Stark images of red eyes and ripping and tearing crept into my head, and I shuddered again.

"You okay?" Monroe asked and my eyes popped open. How long had he been standing there? He was staring down at me as he held the wine and glasses in his hands. With the look on his face, it must have been long enough to know something was wrong.

"Oh, I'm fine. Just dreading some project I'm doing for work tomorrow," I lied.

He glanced at my hoodie. "Why don't you get comfortable and we'll start the movie." He was meaning, 'take off that jacket, you silly girl.'

"You sure you aren't cold?" I inquired, wrapping my arms around myself to emphasize my question.

"It's like seventy degrees or so in here, dude," he chuckled, sitting down beside me. He set the wine and glasses down on the coffee table. "Maybe you're coming down with something." He reached over with his hand to feel my forehead.

I was starting to perspire with the sweater plus the jacket. "I think all this rain is getting to me," I replied.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked with uneasiness on his face. He knew something was up, so I couldn't put this off any longer.

"You're right. Maybe I need to get rid of this jacket." I stood up and slowly unzipped it, revealing the bright, red material underneath. The low-cut of the fabric exposed my cleavage and the ruby necklace dangled right above my breasts.

Monroe's eyes turned as red as the sweater as he jerked up off the couch. "You know…" he stammered, clasping the back of his neck with his hand. "On second thought, you know, if you're, like, coming down with something, maybe you should, umm, just keep it on."

His eyes widened as I pulled the jacket off completely, ignoring his suggestion. I stood in front of him, taking in his reaction. He was straining to keep still. This time more than just his red eyes appeared. Tufts of hair were poking out around his face and hands, and he was close to a full on woge. I stared blankly at him, concealing that I was seeing the change. He retracted as I moved toward him. Monroe stepped back quickly.

"We don't have to watch a movie." I stepped forward again, placing my hands against his chest. "There are other things we can do." The words purred from my lips as I looked up at him. My eyes were like a doe's, giving him a look of pure submission. If I was going to test this, it needed to be a true test.

"You know, I think you're right, it's cold. Yeah, umm, I'm feeling it now. It's definitely cold." He held his arms tight against him. "You should, you know, uh, cover back up so you don't, umm, get sick," he stammered as his pitch went up. His eyes were intensely fixed on the sweater like he was going to pounce. It was that same look he'd given me when we had played music together.

I fiddled with the top button on his shirt. "Actually, I think it's getting warmer in here."

Monroe swallowed hard. His eyes had a sinister look like he wanted to devour me. I wasn't sure how literal to take it. He wanted me, but yet he stayed rigid in place, still stammering.

"Monroe, we've been dancing around this far too long," I continued, undoing another button on his shirt. "I think we know what we're both feeling. Maybe we should do something about it."

His eyes grew wider, and the twitching had gotten worse. He was sweating a little, but he was still in control. Those eyes of his were blazing red, which I was expecting, but the rest he was holding back.

"I want to, Renée…" Monroe's breath quickened with his reply as his fingers wrapped around my shoulders, holding them almost a little too tightly. "You have no idea how much."

"Then don't just want to." Forgoing my scruples, I leaned in to kiss him. He avoided my mouth and slumped back down on the couch.

Well, this little rejection wasn't what I'd anticipated. I sat down close to him where I could face him again. Draping one leg over his, I placed my hand on his arm, curling against him.

Monroe looked down at my hand, then to my leg, and then back up into my eyes. His breathing jerked up in his throat as a small whimper came out. The touching coupled with the red must have been maddening.

"Now you look like _you're_ coming down with something." I smiled coyly at him, parting my lips. I leaned in again for another kiss, but instead he held his forehead against mine.

"Renée," he groaned out my name. His breath came out in heavy spurts while the gears in his head seemed to turn like one of his clocks, all wound up.

I bit my bottom lip and asked, "Don't you want this?"

"Oh man," he whimpered, backing up again.

I removed my leg from his and set my hands in my lap, giving him his space. He placed both hands on his knees, grasping them tightly and staring forward, almost panting. Closing his eyes, his breathing seemed to relax. Slowly, he opened his brown eyes and stared forward again, like he was trying to get me out of his brain.

"Well, perhaps you're right." I stood from the couch and turned briskly to retrieve the jacket and put it back on. "I'm starting to feel a chill again."

I'd hoped for a little more than complete avoidance of my seduction. But for what it was worth, he'd passed the test. He was morphing but not attacking. Monroe could control himself just fine, and I'd been worried for nothing. Fantastic!

I zipped up the hoodie and turned back to face him, sucking in my breath immediately at the sight.

Monroe was standing inches from my face in full wolf woge. Eyes like hot, red daggers glared back into my own. "I want this..." he said, but his voice was deep and foreign. This time there was no forethought. His mouth twisted and he let out a deep growl.

The growl took me off guard, and coupled with everything else, I couldn't help but flinch, filling up with terror as I stepped back. He recognized my reaction immediately and lunged forward. I dodged his advance and ran for the door, but he was too quick and blocked my path. My running set off a chase within him. Lust had turned to prey! I doubled back to the other side of the living room. He grabbed both of my shoulders and I gasped. Spinning me on my heels, he forced my back against the wall.

Monroe had his hands wrapped around my neck, tightening them with his grip. He was standing half a foot out, but his long arms were locked tight, clasping the fabric of my jacket. His strength kept me pinned down, the force crushing my shoulder blades into the wall behind me. If he pushed any further they would go right through it!

I closed my eyes, trying not to scream. Even in my panicked state I had to fight back my fear. That's what they had always taught on _Animal Planet_, right? Animals could smell fear, but if you remained calm, then they wouldn't hurt you. But Monroe was Wesen; he was a man and a wolf. Was intellect controlling his brain or was it instinct?

I flashed my eyes open, fixed on Monroe's blood red eyes, swirling with rage. But it was more than that. There was fear mixed in there, too. Fear that I could recognize him for what he really was. His nostrils flared and another deep growl rumbled out of him. His burning, red spheres remained unyielding, trying to intimidate me as he snarled. I held his gaze. Looking away now would only show submission, and I had to hold my ground if I was going to survive this.

"Monroe, I need you to control this," I said in a practiced, calm voice, mustering the courage to speak.

The snarling stopped as he seemed to process the words in his mind, his face shifting back to human form. But his red eyes lingered, still fixed on my eyes. The wolf wasn't completely ready to back off. His grip on me never faltered, continuing to hold me in place.

"Monroe," I spoke again, trying not to blink. "Let. Go." I said each word firmly yet deliberately, and this time he seemed to come out of it.

He released my jacket, looking at his hands in disgust. Turning away from me, he muttered something under his breath. I breathed out a sigh of relief. For what seemed like eternity we stood in silence while the clocks in the room ticked deafeningly around us. My stomach clenched. What would Monroe's next move be?

Suddenly he turned back, his dark brown eyes meeting mine. "You saw me… what I am…" Monroe's anger was gone, but his face was ashen as he crossed his arms. "Dude, why didn't you say anything?"

I was still shaken. It was like the tale of Jekyll and Hyde had played out right in front of me. How did Wesen live with this duality and stay sane? I searched the clockmaker's face for any last trace of wolf until I was convinced that it was just Monroe standing in front of me.

"It's not something…" I began, trying to shuffle through my filing cabinet in my brain for the best words. "It's not something you just blurt out to a Blutbad." Monroe's head cocked to the side as I said the Wesen name. Okay, perhaps I should've searched my filing cabinets a bit longer.

He let out a short, uncomfortable chuckle as he said, "A Grimm." I held my breath as Monroe spoke the words. He looked up at the ceiling. "She's a Grimm..." He shook his head while he muttered to himself, pacing the floor as he clenched his fists. "Oh, boy."

He'd said the 'G' word. Crap, this wasn't good at all.

Monroe stopped pacing and looked back at me. "You know, I would've understood. Okay, well, maybe not right away, but I would've..." He tapered off, but his wide eyes never left mine.

"I've seen it... Wesen my whole life," I replied softly. "And I'm _not_ a Grimm," I added quickly. Monroe's face seemed puzzled. "When I moved to Portland I'd planned on keeping this part of me hidden." I took in a breath. "But then I met you... And I wasn't expecting you to be..."

"A Blutbad?" Monroe pursed his lips as he spoke.

"Nice," I replied. Monroe seemed to process my reply. "But then this happened and..."

"Whoa, now what happened just now was only…" He searched for the words, but we both knew anything he said right now would just be an excuse. There were no words to make this vanish. "I'm sorry," Monroe said finally, raking his hand through his hair. "It's just been a crazy few months here and, I mean, then with you..." he sighed heavily shaking his head. "Oh man."

"You don't need to apologize," I said, staring down at my red heels. "I knew what I was doing when I wore this. I was just hoping there would be a different outcome."

Well, this was definitely not the way I'd wanted to tell him. How juvenile I'd been for trying to pull off this crazy charade! Chloe wouldn't be happy with me at all. I lifted my chin and met his eyes. I couldn't read his face at my confession. It stayed blank, fixed on me, his eyes still looking through me.

Monroe finally spoke again, "I've worked hard to control myself, and up until now I haven't, you know, _socialized_ for a reason." His eyes widened. "I'm not ready for women coming at me in red clothing." He pointed at my jacket to what was underneath.

I nodded. "I really don't know what I expected, but I thought if you could control yourself with this, then maybe…"

Now it was my turn to fall short on words. I wasn't prepared to pour my heart out to him. There had been quite a bit of flirtation and angst between us. We hadn't even properly kissed yet, let alone were we in any position for a crazy thing like the 'L' word to come trickling out. But I definitely felt something more than just... Oh, my brain was mush right now. For goodness sake, Renée, don't say anything stupid!

"You thought if I could control myself with seeing red, then maybe... you'd be safe with me?" Monroe asked, trying to recognize where I was going with this. It sounded much better the way he'd said it than the sappy things I was trying to say, thank goodness.

"Well, there's no denying that Humans and Blutbaden interacting is dangerous," I said with a sigh. "And I've let my guard down already with you." I reached for the zipper of my jacket, making sure it was still in place where no red was showing.

"Yeah, you've let your guard down all right." Monroe forced an awkward smile. He knew what I meant by this. The past few weeks were starting to make sense, and the light bulb was brightening above his head.

This was why I'd put off telling him where I lived, the odd choices of music, and the reason I'd held back as much as he had. But I was slowly opening myself up to him, all the while knowing exactly what he was. He wasn't unwise to my flirtations. He knew I adored him, I'd even told him so. But the way he looked at me with his brown eyes and even the red ones... Yeah, there was definitely chemistry between us.

"Renée, there's messed up 'people' out there," Monroe said after a long pause, using finger quotes, now seeming to understand why I'd used them myself the first time we had met. "But like I told you, I'm not one of those kinds of 'people.' I'm reformed. You know, I'm not saying I didn't act true to my nature in the past, but, you know, that's the past." His lips formed a thin line.

My mental filing cabinets were clamoring with something to say, but I remained silent.

Monroe moved toward me and I unconsciously backed up. His eyes widened. "Oh man… I would never…" He shook his head to finish his sentence.

He wouldn't purposely hurt me, but after tonight, I wasn't entirely sure control would stop him, either. I wanted to run into his arms, feel his embrace, and tell him I felt safe. But instead I backed up another step, leaning into the same wall I'd just been trapped against.

"I really think I should go," I said finally. The words seemed to upset him, but it was best if I left. We both had a lot of new info to process.

Monroe ran his hands through his wild, curly brown hair. "I think you should stay," he said point-blank. He shook his head as he watched my reaction. I didn't need a mirror to tell that my eyes were wide, and I was looking like a scared child. "Please don't run away. What I am and who I am are, like, two entirely different things, man. Maybe it's a lot to fathom, but I'm not some 'Big Bad Wolf' that was written in a storybook. I'm done with the bad thing. Geez, I'm having this conversation again, I can't believe it." He slid his hand to the back of his neck and paced the floor, then turned to me, waiting for a response.

I didn't reply. I remained against the wall. I looked into those brown eyes of his. Even after this, I was still completely drawn to him. I was also drawn in by the power and force of that raw, animalistic creature that leapt out at me. Frightening, absolutely so, but alluring nonetheless. Was that even possible, or rational? But fear held me back against the wall. Only moments ago I'd been faced with a savage predator that now was replaced by a humble man with eyes pleading with me to understand.

"Dude, you know... I'm, like, sensing that you're really afraid, and I'm sorry." Crap, he could smell my fear. "Okay, so… stay, or go." He paced the floor again, his hands returned to his hair. "Aw man, I need a drink." He let out a deliberate sigh, turned, and walked into the kitchen behind us.

When he was out of sight, I slid down the wall, my body finally reacting to the events of the night. My head felt light, like I might pass out, and my legs had turned to rubber, rendering me immovable. I closed my eyes, sitting in silence and trying hard not to think about what I'd just done.

"So reckless," I said softly to myself.

When I opened my eyes, Monroe was standing over me. He had a bottle of Rogue in one hand and was holding a second one out in my direction. My stomach flipped. I was so vulnerable sitting down here like this. Don't show weakness, Renée. But the wolf wasn't there to take advantage of my feeble situation. Monroe was there… Just Monroe. And that was when the tears began.

"Oh, geez, don't cry." Monroe set the bottles down and scrambled to find a box of tissues. "I can't take a woman crying."

I stayed embedded to the ground, my knees pulled into my chest, the events of the night releasing from me. I couldn't stop the tears, and I took a few tissues from the blue box Monroe held out in front of me. He cautiously bent down beside me, and after checking to make sure I was okay with this, he settled in next to me, leaning his head against the wall. We sat in silence. After a few minutes had passed, he placed his hand on my shoulder. I flinched, but his warm hand held on.

"Are you gonna be okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"I'm sorry for ruining this evening," I blubbered out between my tears, avoiding his question.

"No, I'm sorry… You _never_ should've had to see this." He emphasized the word 'never' with a wave of his hand.

I smiled in spite of my tears. Monroe's grand hand gestures reminded me of watching him get excited about clocks and coffee. I leaned into him with those memories in mind, resting my head on his arm.

"There are heroes and then there are villains, Monroe," I said softly. "I was hoping a Blutbad could be a hero."

"Even heroes have a dark side," Monroe replied. He was right.

I sat up straight and wiped the remaining tears from my cheeks. "I think I could use that beer now." I let out a breath.

"You don't have to ask me twice." Monroe stood up with ease and held his hand out to me to help me from the floor.

I took hold of his hand, and he lifted me in an effortless motion. He was so strong. The force of him holding me against the wall was strong, too. I shuddered at the memory, trying to push back the uneasiness I had. I tried to remember the good things, but the memories of tonight overshadowed them all.

Monroe escorted me to the couch, handing me a beer, and encouraged me to drink. He seated himself next to me, his body angled in my direction. The bottle was cold, and I drank it down rather quickly.

"Whoa there. Take it easy!" Monroe remarked at my now empty bottle as I held it in my hands.

I set the brown bottle on a nearby coaster on the coffee table. "I think I'm going to need a case."

"So, are we going to talk, or are we going to drink all night?" he asked, setting his bottle next to mine.

"Drinking sounds pretty good right now." I rubbed my temples as I spoke. How was this conversation going to go?

Monroe shook his head and tilted it back against the couch. "Oh man..."

"Monroe, I don't mean that I don't want to talk. I'm just at a loss of what to say." This was only half true. I had lots to say. I wanted to tell him that even though he was close to killing me, I was still attracted to him. Oh, how utterly perverse that sounded. I was the poster-girl for battered women everywhere. 'Yes, ladies, it's okay if he slams you against the wall, he doesn't really want to hurt you.' Wow.

"Well, then I'll start." He kept his head tilted toward the ceiling. "It's kind of a relief that you know, really." Monroe lowered his head and turned toward me, leaning his face in close to mine. His eyes traced me over, looking at me in a whole new way. "It's, like, blowing my mind right now, I gotta tell you that, dude, but it's surprisingly intriguing." He sniffed the air just a little bit, like he was testing me out. "You smell human…" He sounded surprised.

"That's because I _am_ human," I reminded him. Did he expect me to smell different now that the truth had been revealed?

He put his hand to his bearded chin, still shaking his head and seeming lost in thought. What was he going to do next, get out his magnifying glass and try to take me apart like one of his clocks, just to see how I ticked?

"Umm," I mumbled while pursing my lips. Did he realize he was just staring at me?

Monroe brought his attention back to what he wanted to say. "Sorry." He shook his head quickly like he was shaking out the rest of his thoughts. "I never thought I'd have to go through this twice." He let out a short chuckle. What did he mean by that? Now it was my turn to stare.

"Twice?" I had to ask.

"I know Grimms… Well, a Grimm. He sees me just like you do. You remember me telling you about Nick? I think I've mentioned him before? Maybe you two should meet? Have you ever met a human that could see what you see?" He kept asking questions, still staring into my eyes.

"I've heard of Grimms," I said, unable to answer all his other questions. "Most Wesen accuse me of being one. They're hunters and they kill your kind."

"Only the evil ones," Monroe assured me. Did he mean only the evil Grimms or only the evil Wesen?

Monroe carried on. "Nick is a cop and a Grimm. He's only been a Grimm a short time. Like, a really short time. Just a few months, dude. He and I, umm, met due to another Blutbad killing little girls, and then…" Monroe trailed off. I could fill in the blanks.

"Well, ever since then," he continued, "he comes to me for help…" He paused again. "…a lot."

So, his friend Nick wasn't a Blutbad or Wesen. He was a Grimm. Wow, I'd pegged that one completely wrong. What the heck was he doing with a Grimm? I wanted to ask more about this Nick guy, but I kept quiet.

"Nick's been worried since I started seeing you, because, you know, you're human and all." Monroe's face was somber. "He worries I can't control this, but it's just... I don't know. I mean, he's still new to it. He trusts me, but then he doesn't trust me. It's just a dicey situation, man. So he's been driving me nuts about being, like, careful with you. Nick needs to learn to butt out of relationships. He wanted to tell me what to do about Angelina when she…" Monroe stopped and shook his head.

I nodded without saying anything. Angelina must have been the ex.

"But anyway, this changes everything now," Monroe resumed. "I mean, you're still human, of course," he said while pointing at me. He paused, still contemplating that statement like I couldn't possibly be human since I could see all these things. He shook off his thoughts and continued. "But you understand what I am. I'd never be able to explain all this to a normal person. They'd think I was crazy, or they'd think they were crazy. Either way the outcome wouldn't be good at all." He gave me a wide eyed look like he'd just offended me. "Oh man, I didn't mean you aren't normal!"

Monroe was talking a mile a minute. I tried nodding in the right places, but it was like a volcano had erupted, and everything he'd been holding back was flowing out of him. The puzzle pieces were fitting together now, revealing a picture that I wouldn't have even begun to guess. I understood more about Nick and why he'd been affecting Monroe so much lately. Nick was like Chloe, telling Monroe to back off and that this wasn't going to work between us. Only Monroe seemed to listen better to his buddy Nick than I had to my best friend. But I was reckless and stubborn.

I brought the subject back to the Grimm. "So, you help this Nick guy how…? You guys go out and catch evil Wesen like the Hardy Boys?"

Monroe laughed at my analogy. "In a way, yeah," he nodded, sitting up a little taller.

"And you're okay with this?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. From what my Wesen friends had always stressed about Grimms, they killed first and asked questions later. It seemed odd for a Grimm and Wesen alliance to form so easily.

"I don't think anyone, Wesen or otherwise, should kill someone else," Monroe replied. "I've worked hard to redefine myself. I can't see living in a world where others aren't doing the same thing. We need to, you know, co-exist," he said adamantly, merging his hands together to represent co-existing.

So, did this Grimm not kill Wesen? This was so confusing. Regardless, I nodded at his words. My own thoughts drifted back to Monroe's red eyes. I couldn't shake this feeling. Would Monroe have killed me, or was pinning me to the wall still a form of control on his part? I didn't want to ask. I wanted it to fade away like a bad dream. But those eyes were haunting my thoughts.

"Ya want another brew or something?" he asked, knowing I was lost in reflection.

"Sure," I said, slumping back into the seat of the couch, staring at the ceiling.

He left for a moment and returned with another brown bottle.

"You're the first Blutbad I've actually… associated with," I said as I took the bottle from him. I still had no clue how to define our relationship.

"Oh really?" He leaned in as he sat back down. "But you know of us?"

"I've seen Blutbaden before, but none that I would even consider approaching." I opened the bottle and took a long swig.

"You hide your knowledge well," Monroe replied with an approving smile. "Nick needs to learn that. He reacts to every woge, and Wesen know immediately he's a Grimm."

"I've had quite some time to adapt," I replied, taking another drink. I'd done a pretty poor job hiding myself from Monroe compared to all the others. Plus, I had my bad humming habit.

Monroe laced his fingers together, resting them in his lap. "So, if you're not a Grimm…" he started, but then looked at me as if to ask me to finish his sentence.

"Your guess is as good as mine," I replied. "My parents thought I was playing make-believe. I'd see Beavers and Ducks and everything else, so they thought I had an active imagination. I tried to tell other people what I saw when I was young, but that didn't go over so well. When I got older, I learned to stay quiet about what I knew. I didn't start talking to Wesen until I was in high school when I met Chloe, who's a…" I hesitated, because even though Chloe lived over two-thousand miles away from Portland, she wouldn't want me talking about her to a Blutbad. "I met Chloe, and we bonded rather quickly. She was the only Wesen I'd met at the time that didn't fear me or quiz me about being a Grimm. Thanks to her I've made quite a few Wesen friends, and they've shared what they knew of the 'other world' with me, but Chloe has had the most to share. So, to answer your question, I don't know what I am. But being different has definitely been a challenge with whatever it is. Wesen don't usually trust me and I'm not a regular human. I'm just in the middle."

"Yeah, well I can relate to different. I'm a vegetarian. How do you think those family reunions go?" He laughed and I gave him a half-smile. Monroe put his hand on my shoulder again and then he slid it down my back, rubbing it soothingly. This time I enjoyed the comfort. "I'm a Wieder Blutbad, have you heard of this term before?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Wieder stays good with diet, drugs, and exercise," Monroe stated, holding up each finger as he counted off the list. "I prefer Pilates, but yoga also helps maintain the lifestyle."

"Pilates, huh? That's interesting." So, that was what he'd meant by working out. This six-foot-three guy doing Pilates? I had to see it to believe it.

"It works well, except for the times when I'm taken off guard." I sunk down in my seat. Yeah, I'd played dirty, but I needed to know if I could trust him. And I'd faced the results pretty fiercely.

"I'm sorry I caused you to have a relapse." I offered the apology with as much sincerity as I could.

"Relapse?" His eyebrows rose. "Nah, this wasn't a relapse. I know what a relapse is like, and this was just an outburst at best." Monroe sat quietly for a moment, looking like he was reflecting on his last 'relapse.' I wanted to ask more, but I held my tongue. Some outburst! I couldn't imagine what a relapse must look like.

I finished off the last of the second bottle of beer and leaned back into the couch. "So, now that it's all out in the open, where do we stand?" I asked carefully.

At that moment Monroe's cell phone rang. Saved by the bell. I sat up quickly and he scrambled to retrieve it from his pocket.

"Hello?" He rolled his eyes. "Hey Nick… Yeah. What's up, man?"

I stood up and excused myself a moment to go to the bathroom. I closed the door, ran some cold water into the sink and splashed it on my face. Considering the circumstances, my make-up wasn't as badly smeared as I'd figured it would be. I grabbed a tissue and repaired my eye shadow and mascara.

"Well, are you happy now?" I asked my reflection. "Chloe was right. You sure know how to add the drama into your life, huh?"

I texted Chloe and simply said that I'd told Monroe everything, and I was okay. I'd have to call her to fill in the gaps later. There were plenty of gaps that would need to be filled in, and Chloe was gonna be fit to be tied.

While I was in the bathroom, I took a peek inside Monroe's medicine cabinet. On the second shelf was a bottle of Old Spice. All the mysteries were being solved tonight. I laughed despite everything.

I returned to the living room and Monroe was waiting for me. Apparently he'd finished his call with the Grimm.

"Nick needs me to meet him at his trailer," he said. "I told him I was in the middle of something, but he acted like it was a matter of life and death." He rolled his eyes again.

"It's fine. This is a good stopping point." I tugged at the jacket. I was burning up and was eager to put on something cooler. "It's late and I have to be at work in the morning."

"I can't wait to tell Nick about you," Monroe said excitedly. "He's gonna freak out that there's another human who can see things."

I shook my head. "Let's keep this our secret for now." Monroe seemed conflicted. I was asking him to keep a secret from his friend and this was a big one. "Monroe, just not right now at least?" He seemed to accept my request. We walked out on the porch.

Monroe stopped a moment as we stood, facing each other in the darkness. "I want to continue this thing we have. Don't give up on me or anything, okay?" Even in the darkness the concern on his face that I might run away and not return was apparent.

"I'm not running away that easily," I assured him. What did he mean by 'this thing we have.'? Did he mean our friendship, or did he mean something more? Too many questions for one night. I would have to let this statement be as it was for now.

"But please promise me," he said as he took my hand in his, "no more red, okay? Well, you know, not for a while."

I shook my head in agreement as he spoke.

"But," he added, "it _is_ my favorite color." His mouth turned up in an evil grin, eyes flashing red at the words like two glowing, crimson orbs in the night. It was sinister, and I shivered in spite of myself.

I nodded. "That I can promise you." I meant every word. "Now go be a hero," I added.

"Oh, yeah, off to save the world." He smiled that genuine smile at me. "You and I have so much more to discuss," Monroe said then he kissed my hand.

Part of me wished it hadn't been my hand.

As I pulled out of the driveway, Monroe got into his VW. He was such a complex guy, but his dark side scared the crap out of me. But there was no denying I was hooked, regardless of what he was. He was worth it. My brain was still mush.

I was in a daze the entire drive home. For once there was no music fluttering in my head to go along with what I was feeling. Had that ever happened before?

The cat was out of the bag now… Or should I've said the Blutbad? Good thing I could still make a joke. One thing was for sure, I was burning this sweater.

* * *

A/N: Ok, so this chapter is the crux of this whole story. I wrote this chapter out first, and then the rest of this tale wrapped around it. You know the photo of Monroe holding Nick against the wall? Well, that was the inspiration, folks. I imagined a female character that could see like a Grimm, and then thought about if she tried to test Monroe with red... Soon after that, Renée was created.

Also, I had a song in mind for Renee to sing on the drive home. "Love the Way You Lie part Two" by Rihanna. I love the first line in it and thought it fit:

_"On the first page of our story,_  
_the future seemed so bright._  
_Then this thing turned out so evil._  
_I don't know why I'm still surprised._  
_Even angels have their wicked schemes,_  
_and you take that to new extremes._  
_But you'll always be my hero,_  
_even though you've lost your mind..."_

I liked the line about "our story" (Grimm storybook theme here) and "You'll always be my hero even though you've lost your mind." (Since there's been this Hero/Villain theme with her.) But after I thought about it, I decided it wasn't fair to Monroe. Monroe was practically set up by Renée, and he was acting on instinct. (I get to this more in the next chapter.) I don't think Monroe meant to hurt her at all. So, to use a song about an abusive relationship was being unfair, and so I tossed the song idea. I kinda liked just leaving it where she didn't have a song at all. Kinda showed that this event really rocked her world, and she had nothing in her lyrics database to attach it to.

Sorry, just thought I'd give you some background on where my thoughts were. (; Bonus features. lol!

We are nowhere near done yet... There are 7 more chapters to go!

Please comment, I want to know your thoughts on this chapter. (:


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

That night I dreamed I was walking through the woods in the winter. The trees were covered in white snow, and I was draped in a long, red riding cape. Monroe was there, hiding amongst the trees, and when he spotted me, he had a full woge into a wolf. His face held an evil countenance as he bounded toward me. I ran as fast as my feet would take me, but he remained close at my heels as I tried to flee. Monroe proved faster, and with one pounce, he was on top of me. I was pinned down on the ground, and his fiery eyes stared back into mine.

"What big, red eyes you have!" I exclaimed. His mouth came toward my neck, and I screamed!

The alarm clock saved me from being devoured. I jolted up, my heart racing and my body drenched in sweat. I turned off the alarm clock and fell back on the bed. Last night was its own nightmare. I wasn't going to call him. I wanted him to call me. Would I even answer the phone if he did? Part of me wanted to see him again. The other part wanted to move back to Louisville and hide. I was so torn. I held my face in my hands, trying to make sense of all these feelings.

I got up and attempted to pull myself together. I had a hot shower. The water sprayed against my back and on my shoulders, which were still sore from last night. I was on auto pilot as I got dressed and headed into the office. I couldn't concentrate at work. I kept staring at my cell, wishing it to ring. At lunch I felt it vibrate. Getting anxious, I checked and there was a text from my mother.

**Hope Jack got in touch with U in Portland, Sweetie! XOXO ~Mom**

Yeah, he definitely got in touch with me. I shook my head. Oh, Mom, you just couldn't leave well enough alone. She loved Jack, and I still needed to have a long talk with her about her prying into my personal life. I doubted she would've been too thrilled with the events that had happened the other night. But mothers always felt they knew best, and mine was no exception.

I went through the motions at work and was relieved when it was time to head home. Mondays were jam-packed with agendas and meetings. I had two training sessions to complete by the end of the week, but I hadn't started on either one of them. My brain was in a fog, and I couldn't concentrate. The phone calls I took that day went in one ear and out the other. I really needed to bring my 'A Game' if I was going to do well here. I was under the spotlight being the new girl, and I had to display a good presence to the managers.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

At five o'clock, I got into my trusty Malibu and headed straight home. I just wanted to slip into my flannel PJs and curl up on the couch with a bowl of Rocky Road.

Once home, I relaxed on the couch and turned on the TV. Sookie and Alcide were on HBO. Plaid wearing Alcide was rescuing Sookie from a biker, who was trying to take advantage of her at Lou Pines Bar. Wolves seemed to be in the rescuing damsels in distress business lately. Alcide punched the biker right in the face, and I had another moment of déjà vu. Cable TV was really starting to piss me off. I hit the power button on the remote and tossed it on the floor. Taking in the quiet, I stared up toward the ceiling and closed my eyes. I just wanted the silence to take me over for a while, but my thoughts wouldn't allow that to happen. Frustrated, I sat back up. I'd promised Chloe I would keep the lines of communication open. I dialed her number and waited for her to answer.

After the usual formalities, I told her in vivid detail what I'd done. She was livid. Absolutely livid.

"Renée are you really that insane?" she yelled, and I could barely hear her from all the clicking. "I agreed you should tell him what you can see, not put yourself on a platter and serve yourself up to him!"

"I needed to know if he could control himself," I reasoned. "I thought the red would be the best test." Just saying it aloud sounded pretty insane.

"You can't test _us_ like that," Chloe chided. She was separating herself from me. She only did that when I'd really made a faux pas. This one was a doozy.

Chloe continued, "You can't dangle carrots in front of me and expect me not to bite, and you can't dangle red near a Blutbad and expect him to just control himself. We have our own natures. Just because you can see _us_ doesn't mean you understand _us_!" There, she'd said it. I was being reprimanded and put back in my place. I was human, not Wesen. I could see the 'other world,' but I was not an official member.

"I just wanted…" but I trailed off. There was no excuse for my actions.

"You wanted to control the situation, but you can't go around playing these kinds of games with Wesen. You're lucky he didn't kill you, Renée! I don't know what stopped him, but you wanted to see if he had control. When he pinned you to that wall and didn't rip you to shreds, well that was him passing your stupid control test!"

Chloe was trying not to cry, and I was sorry I'd even told her. But she deserved to know. I'd promised her I would be safe, and I'd broken that promise. Monroe could've killed me last night. Hearing Chloe say those words brought that realization right to the surface.

"Chloe, I acted rashly." That was the understatement of the year. "But now that he knows, albeit not the best way to find out, he seems excited that he can be himself around me. You remember that feeling, right? Having a human friend you could be yourself with?" Maybe she'd remember what it was like when my secret was revealed, and she had a human she could talk to.

"I'm glad it worked out, but Renée it could've been tragic. He could've acted on instinct, and it wouldn't have been his fault. Promise me you won't test us anymore," she urged and I promised.

"He says he wants to continue what we have." What did Monroe mean by that, anyway? Regardless, I needed to let Chloe know he'd said it. "I want to continue seeing him. Well, at least I think I do. I've just never felt this way like this about anyone before, Chloe." I sighed. "I'm not thinking straight."

"I know there are good things about Monroe. You've stressed them to me time and time again. And aside from what happened last night, I think Monroe does sound like he could be, dare I say, a good guy. But you have to be careful with him, Renée. Good guy or not, he's a Blutbad. You can't erase that kind of genetic makeup completely. You're stubborn and we know what happens when you set your sights on something." Chloe sighed in exaggeration. "You've made it clear he's going to be a part of your life. Just keep me updated. If he hurts you, I swear I'll come to Portland and kill him." Chloe was trying to be supportive. She was going against every fiber in her being to say that.

"Thank you, Chloe." Now I was trying not to cry. "I really need you right now. You just don't know how much."

"The day I became your friend I knew I was in for trouble!" She let out a short chuckle.

"But the universe will never keep us apart!" I reminded her.

For a moment I actually smiled. Chloe meant the world to me. We'd gone through so much during our friendship. She protected me for a reason, and this wasn't the first time my recklessness had gotten the best of me. But that was another story for another time.

"Speaking of friends," I continued, "it seems that Monroe's friend, Nick, has also been trying to talk Monroe out of having a relationship with me," I told Chloe. "That's why he's been so distant." I was going to tell her about Nick being a Grimm, but bit my tongue. If Monroe wasn't telling Nick about me, I ought to keep Nick's secret from Chloe. That sounded fair.

"It sure must be nice to have a friend that actually _tries_ to listen to the sage advice they're given." I knew Chloe was smirking on the other side of the phone.

"Hey, I listened to it, I just didn't agree with it," I laughed. Laughing was such a release after everything that had happened last night.

"I love you, Renée. Keep me posted, and please try to use those brains that God gave you," she said and we hung up.

Chloe was completely right. I was insane to have tested a Blutbad like that. If only I could take back my stupid idea to test him. I wanted to go back to Monroe being in the dark that I knew his secret. I wanted us to go out and pretend we were just happy, normal humans living our secret, normal lives. But I just had to test him. I just had to know.

Granted, now that the test was over, everything was out in the open. I didn't have to hide what I knew anymore. Hiding all this from Monroe was such a daily struggle. I wanted to share everything with this guy, and now I actually could. Maybe this was what we needed to get to the next level of our relationship. For a brief moment I was as liberated as I'd been when I first moved here. Was that really only a few weeks ago?

My shoulder blades still ached slightly as a reminder of my actions last night. Had I really needed such a devious plan in the first place? Monroe was too good for me. Maybe I should've been asking where I stood on the hero slash villain scale instead of the other way around. Right now I was tipping toward pretty darn villainous.

* * *

A/N: I had to throw a little Alcide in there, sorry! (; I'm a big fan of Charlaine Harris and the Sookie Stackhouse books. I think that's why I write in first person, to be honest.

6 chapters to go!


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

My cell phone rang at seven o'clock and Monroe's name flashed up on the display. I picked it up from the coffee table and held the phone in my hands, pacing the floor while it rang over and over. It was now or never. With my chest pounding, I answered it before it stopped ringing.

"Hey…" I meekly said into the receiver.

"Duran Duran… really?" scoffed Monroe on the other end. "I'm offended!"

"Huh?" I asked puzzled. "Oh… Ohh!" The song in the car! Crap! "Yeah, about that..." I said guiltily.

"You're definitely full of surprises," he replied, quoting me.

"I really do like that song. I wasn't lying about that," I said. "But your reaction was priceless." I was devious even back then during our trip in my car to the farmer's market.

He laughed. "Oh, I'll bet."

Thank goodness he hadn't mentioned me humming Sam the Sham when I'd picked up my clock.

My pulse had slowed down, and I stopped pacing. Instead, I settled down on the couch, curling my legs under me. "So how did saving the world go last night?" I asked, changing the subject quickly.

"Good. I just did a little translating for Nick. His German isn't all that great… Well, umm, it's practically non-existent," he said. "But that's not why I called. You know, you owe me a movie night, and there's an excellent bottle of merlot over here."

"Ah, yes, _Les Miserables_." I pushed out some enthusiasm in my voice, but inside there was a pit in my stomach.

"If you're free tonight, come on over." There was such a genuine smile in his voice. "I'm making eggplant parmesan."

"Merlot really doesn't go well with eggplant parmesan," I commented.

"Yeah, well... You know, I don't make meat dishes," he replied. "And a steak would probably go better with merlot."

"It turns out I have a nice Tuscan Chianti that I've been saving for a rainy day," I told Monroe. "It should pair well."

It also went well with fava beans. Maybe this was my fate after all… Monroe would break his vow of vegetarianism and _have me_ for dinner now that he knew I could see him. I tried not to picture Monroe in a straitjacket on an upright gurney. Darn Chloe and her outlandish analogies. I was paranoid again.

"You just earned some major bonus points for knowing pairings like that, dude," said Monroe, startling me out of my morbid thoughts. Okay, now I was committed to coming over. I'd offered to bring better wine, and I'd impressed him.

"Give me a few moments and I'll be over." I walked into my bedroom and opened my closet. "Want me to bring anything else?"

"Right now I just want you," he said.

I almost dropped the phone. "Uh, that I can supply." Yeah, real suave there, Renée.

"Good. Well, all right then," he replied quickly. "I'll see you soon."

I pressed the end call button and tapped the phone in my hands a few times. Okay, that went better than I'd expected. So much for comfy flannel PJs. I stood in the bedroom for a moment, staring blankly at my closet as I tried to sort out my feelings. Was I ready to go back over there? Monroe had acted like nothing had changed between us while we were talking on the phone. How was I supposed to interpret that? I wanted to see him again, even with all my fears and hesitations, but the pit in my stomach was getting bigger.

I faced the mirror and talked myself into getting ready. "Renée you tested him because you want to be with him. If you don't go back over there, all this was for nothing. It was an outburst. You taunted him with red and he reacted. But, he held back and he essentially passed your test. He wants to continue this thing you have, (I still had no clue what that meant, but I was going to keep reminding myself he'd said it.) so you have to go over there to be able to continue it."

I finished my pep talk and took a deep breath in, letting the practiced calm wash over me. The pit in my stomach was shrinking. Okay, I was going to be all right. Now I had to find that bottle of Tuscan Chianti. I rummaged the house and spotted it in the pantry. Thankfully, I'd brought it with me from home. It finally had a purpose.

I went back to my bedroom closet and settled on a mint green cardigan with dark blue, denim jeans. I pinned my chestnut brown hair back to show off my neck a little. To finish off the outfit, I went with a fluorite necklace that matched the cardigan. A dash of mascara, eye shadow, a touch of foundation, some cherry lip gloss, and I was complete. I examined myself in the mirror. The red of the lip gloss shouldn't be too distracting, should it? Well, it was mostly pink than red. I shook my head. This paranoia needed to cease. I grabbed my black leather jacket and headed out with the Tuscan Chianti tucked in my bag. I hummed Madonna's 'Secret' as I got into the car.

"_Happiness lies in your own hand.__  
__It took me much too long to understand,__  
__How it could be,__  
__Until you shared your secret with me…"_

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's a short chapter.

Renée is causing changes in the Grimm world, as you can see with Monroe going to the trailer earlier than in the show. I wanted to keep things in tandem, but I'm realizing you can't add characters and expect the original story to flow. So you may see mention of things that aren't following the story line. I also think that we may not see everything that goes on between Monroe and Nick that we see on the episodes of Grimm, so that has a factor in my writing, too. But as far as the Grimm story line goes, we're right before Tarantella. Hope that made sense. LOL!

5 Chapters to go! Stay tuned... (:


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

I gazed up at Monroe's door briefly before knocking. The wolf on the stained glass looked regal, more like a lion than a wolf. The blue crest gave it a sense of valor. The door opened as I was looking at the trees behind the crest.

"Hey there. Umm, why are you just standing outside?" Monroe asked, curiously.

"How did you know to open the door?" I answered his question with one of my own.

He pointed to his nose and gave me a knowing look. "Vanilla body wash," he commented with a smile.

"That's a great trick," I replied as I slowly walked inside.

He shot me a wink. "Oh, the nose knows." His sense of smell was definitely acute.

As I walked into the living room, my eyes fixed on the far wall. Less than twenty-four hours ago Monroe had me pinned there, and I was back again about to have dinner. My eyes moved across the room, replaying parts of last night. I shook my head in spite of myself, trying to hold the negative thoughts back.

Monroe noticed where I was staring, and he rested his hand on my shoulder. "Why don't you get comfortable?" he suggested, motioning me forward.

I eyed his green-striped apron over his red and black plaid shirt. Red? Wasn't that color just a little too ironic to wear after last night? I just about said so, but I held my tongue.

"Nice apron," I commented instead and took off my jacket to reveal my green cardigan.

"Yeah, I don't want to get the plaid dirty," he chuckled, looking down at his shirt. "The green is nice," he said approvingly. "You look lovely tonight."

"On the color spectrum green is the opposite of red," I replied. He wasn't the only one who knew useless facts.

"Well, whatever spectrum it's on, it brings out your eyes," Monroe remarked and that trademark smile of his appeared.

"Thanks." He'd never mentioned my eyes before tonight, and I couldn't help but smile back. I relaxed a little and laid my jacket on the cedar chest by the window.

"Dinner is almost ready," he said as I pulled out the Tuscan Chianti from my bag.

"I need to chill this up quick then. This kind tastes better that way. Do you have any salt?" I asked.

He looked puzzled. "Salt?"

"There's a great little trick to speed up the chilling process," I replied. "You'll like this one." We moved into the kitchen, and Monroe pulled out a canister of salt from the cupboard. With a little ice, water, and salt I combined everything in an ice bucket and added the bottle of chianti. "It'll be chilled in about ten to fifteen minutes," I said proudly.

"You're a regular Mr. Wizard," he replied. "Err... Miss Wizard," he corrected himself.

_"She blinded me with science…"_

I sang the tune and gave Monroe a grin.

Monroe laughed and shook his head at me. "Is there any song you don't know?" he asked.

"I know a few," I modestly replied. "Every song tells a story."

"Yeah, from that playlist in your car, you know, it tells quite a tale." His eyes gave me a knowing look. Oh, no. We were going to discuss the playlist again.

I blushed automatically. "Why, Monroe, I don't know what you're talking about," I said, trying not to sound too concerned.

"Well, let me try to jog your memory. First it was Duran Duran, which I'm still offended at, by the way," he scoffed, raising his eyebrows. "Then what was next? The Faint, I believe? What does that story tell us, Renée?" His tone was mocking and so incredibly adorable, but I wasn't about to admit anything.

"Hey, that song has a great violin solo at the beginning," I replied quickly, still blushing. Hopefully this red wouldn't set him off.

"And the One Republic song… What was it? Oh, right. 'Secrets.' So are there any other secrets you need to confess?" Okay, now he was just taunting me.

"Tell me what you want to hear, Monroe," I said, quoting the song just to be a bit sarcastic. "I love music. All lyrics can be interpreted differently. And if I recall, that playlist had some Haydn and Beethoven mixed in there as well."

"'Moonlight Sonata'? Nothing with any meaning there, I'm sure. You know, we don't need full moons," he told me, shaking his head, "or silver bullets for that matter." He was trying to hide his grin, but he was failing miserably.

"Hey, you didn't seem to put anything together_ during _that car ride, Sherlock." I was pushing it, and his eyes were flaring red, but my recklessness wanted to see how far I could go.

"So, what else is on that playlist?" He narrowed his eyes slightly as he asked. "Too bad I didn't choose the farmer's market that was an hour away," he added, placing his hand in front of his mouth to hide his smile. "You know, I'd like to bet I wouldn't have had to be Nancy Drew to figure things out after a few more songs."

Even with the events of last night, being here with Monroe, and us bantering back and forth, brought out all the good feelings I had for him. When he smiled it made me want to smile right back. I really did adore him. Maybe we could make this work.

"So, are ya gonna let me listen to the rest of that playlist?" His eyes twinkled at me as he continued. "I mean, I think it's only fair after Duran Duran."

My face was burning now, and it didn't take a Blutbad to recognize what I was feeling. "So dinner, how are we doing on that?" I asked, trying to find anything else to distract from this music conversation. "You need me to prep a salad or anything?"

"Changing the subject, oh, I see." His eyes were back to piercing through me again, trying to get inside my brain. "I already started on the salad. It just needs a few extras, so, you know, if you'd like to help, be my guest."

I breathed a sigh of relief and went to work on peeling carrot sticks over the bowl on the kitchen island. I still felt his eyes on me as I worked. I hummed 'Hungry Like the Wolf' as I started dicing the tomatoes.

"Really?" Monroe scoffed. I smiled as I continued humming. It was going to be a long night.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

We moved plates and dishes to the dining room. He'd cleaned up quite a bit in here. There was even a tablecloth draped neatly over the round table. Monroe lit the taper candles in the center. He'd really gone all out to make it a nice evening. Despite the effort, the pit in my stomach was growing again. I was in a red room with a Blutbad, who was wearing a red plaid shirt. It didn't seem right at all after everything that had happened last night.

I let Monroe do the serving while I poured the chilled chianti. Sitting across from each other, we were both silent, but our eyes did all the talking. The jokes were over, and the realization of last night crept back into my thoughts. From the look on Monroe's face, they were impregnating his thoughts, too. We continued to eat in silence while the ticking of the clocks were the only sounds in the dining room. The meal was absolutely amazing, but we made no mention of it. One of us had to say something, but my mind was blank. All I could do was stare back into Monroe's eyes, waiting to see if they would flash red again.

"So, umm, how was work?" he asked finally, nervously reaching for the buttons on his white undershirt.

"It was all right. I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night," I said, but then I wished I hadn't.

Monroe nodded with seriousness on his face. "Yeah, it was a tosser and turner for me as well."

"Did Nick have you out very late at his… trailer?" I asked. That was where he'd said he'd gone, right?

"It wasn't for very long. You know, Nick likes to over-react, using the term 'life or death' when it's really not warranted." Monroe shook his head. "He had some excerpts from a few books for me to go over, and they really didn't spell out all that much to me, but, I mean, Nick felt like it helped, so..."

His work with Nick was vague, but I could respect that. I'd asked him not to tell Nick about me, and I'm sure Monroe felt the need to not share all of Nick's secrets, either.

"Look, umm, I know you said you didn't want me talking to Nick about you…" Monroe started, almost as if he'd read my mind. "But, uh, he was asking what I was busy with last night and… Well, your name _kinda_ came up." His pitch went up on the word 'kinda,' so there was more discussed about me than he was letting on.

"So, what was _kinda_ said about me?" I asked, putting the same high pitched emphasis on the word.

"Well, like I said yesterday, he already knows about you to some extent," Monroe said.

I nodded slowly. While I was still flattered he'd discussed me with his friend, this had to be leading up to something, so I kept listening.

"So, umm, I mentioned you were over last night and we, you know, had some things going on… He asked if I'd told you what I was, and... Well, I…" Even now Monroe couldn't lie to me about what was said. So if Nick had asked him straightforward if I knew, then Monroe wouldn't be able to hide that, either.

"What did you say, Monroe?" I calmly asked. He was stammering all over the place.

"Okay, so, uh, I kinda told him that you had figured out there was something, you know, umm, _different_ about me. But Nick knows how to grill a dude, and well, it may have slipped out that you know about me being a Blutbad." Monroe looked as guilty as the cat caught in the goldfish bowl. "But he doesn't know that you can, like, really _see_ me," he quickly added, "or anything else for that matter."

"So, if I can't see you," I began while resting my chin on my hand, "then how did you tell me what you were so that I, as a plain old human, would believe it?"

"Oh, if I want a human to see me, I can," he stated. "You didn't know that?"

"No, I wasn't aware." It made sense, since the legends had to start somewhere. But I'd never really thought about the process. I had to keep that info in mind to ask Chloe. "And Nick wasn't surprised that I took the news well?" I probed.

Monroe took a swig of wine. "I started asking him about the books and avoided the details."

"Okay, well…" I took another sip of wine, too.

"He wants to meet you now." His eyes fixed back on mine as if he was waiting for my reaction.

"So, when does he want to meet?" I was good at not reacting to things, and this was no different. I was completely terrified, but my features stayed smooth and calm.

"Tonight…" His face was like stone. So the movie night was a ruse to get me to come over. Well, at least I got a last meal before being interrogated by a Grimm.

"Tonight…" I repeated. "He's on the way here?" I asked.

"He's at the door," Monroe murmured. Just then, there was a knock on the front door. I turned quickly, and Monroe scurried to open it.

It was going to be a _very_ long night…

* * *

A/N: So I know what all of you are saying... "NICK!" (;

The salt/water/ice thing actually works. I challenged myself to find a way to put Thomas Dolby's "She Blinded Me With Science" in my story. It's an awesome song, and I was quite proud of myself. Don't hate! LOL!

Stayed tuned for the next chapter. 4 more to go!


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

The door opened, and a dark-headed man much shorter than Monroe walked inside. I stayed fixed in my chair at the dining room table, turning in such a way as to make out his appearance. The Grimm was closer to my age. His blue eyes were vibrant from across the room, and his bangs laid thick across his forehead. He looked like a normal human being just like me. No apparent superpowers and no cape. He was wearing a black canvas jacket and a blue checkered, button-down shirt underneath, which only intensified his eyes. Nick's smile widened as Monroe led him into the living room. I sat up straighter as he walked through the living room and into the dining room.

"You must be Renée!" he said with the same big smile he'd given Monroe. I stood up and stepped toward him. He was eyeing me over, evaluating me, and he seemed pleased with what he saw.

"And you must be Nick!" I replied with the same exuberance. I extended my hand out and he took it warmly. Now that I was facing him, his blue eyes held flecks of green and they seemed to have a million questions behind them. I swallowed hard. What did this detective have in store for me?

I pointed at the table. "There's plenty of eggplant parmesan if you'd like some. Monroe is an excellent cook," I boasted, hoping Monroe wouldn't mind me offering.

"Oh, I've had the honor of his cooking, and yeah he's definitely great," Nick replied. "My girlfriend and I just had dinner, but thank you for the offer."

"Why don't we sit in the living room?" Monroe suggested, looking a little on edge.

He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge. I took hold of my glass of chianti and strained a smile. Keeping my face calm, I took a seat on the couch opposite the Grimm, who had taken the leather swivel chair. Monroe gave a brown bottle to Nick and sat next to me, then opened his bottle and took a long drink. The three of us got comfortable.

"So, Monroe tells me you're a financial officer?" The Grimm asked.

"Financial trainer," I softly corrected him. "I've been working in the banking industry for ten years now. I was the training facilitator for a small branch in Louisville, but then I was promoted to Corporate Financial Trainer at the main office here in Portland." Okay, first question down. He'd throw the easy ones out first.

"And that was recently, right?"

"Yeah, pretty recent." I nodded, taking a sip of wine. "I've been living here coming up on a month next week," I told him after checking my mental calendar. "So, Monroe tells me you work for the Portland police as a detective?" Nick wasn't going to get to ask all the questions.

"Yeah, I've been working for the Portland PD for a while now," he vaguely replied with a toothy grin. "It's _interesting_ work." The Grimm work probably kept it real interesting. "Is that _all_ Monroe told you about me?" Nick asked, watching my face.

So much for the easy questions. I panicked a moment. Monroe hadn't said if Nick knew I was aware of Grimms. I reacted in spite of myself, and looked in Monroe's direction. He gave me a supportive nod.

I turned back toward Nick. "Monroe told me about your… condition." I didn't know what else to call it. "He said that you can see things that most can't... A Grimm?"

Nick smiled and nodded as I said the words. "Yes, that's right." He kept his eyes on my reaction, trying to glean any more information from my response. A true detective, no doubt. "And Monroe said you both had a discussion about what _h_e is." The Grimm said the words carefully, again watching for my reaction.

"Yes," I replied coolly, crossing my legs. "Monroe and I had an interesting night, and I got a lesson on Blutbaden."

Now it was Nick's turn to show a reaction. It must have been a surprise at how calm I was while talking about something this other-worldly, especially since I'd allegedly only learned about it last night. Holy hell, I'd messed up!

I added quickly, "Scared the crap out of me, no offense Monroe." I gave a quick glance at the Blutbad. "I've been in a daze since we had our talk, and I'm trying to wrap my head around all of this." I widened my eyes so I looked the part of a surprised woman and then took a liberal drink from my wine glass. Were my acting skills believable?

Nick leaned in and nodded as I spoke. I let out a breath. Maybe that covered up my mistake. Monroe squeezed my hand and I relaxed.

"Well, it's definitely hard to believe until you see it," Nick agreed.

I had to guess that was true. To be new at seeing all this must have been incredibly hard, and I felt bad for Nick in a way. When you grow up with it being around you, it's like second nature. I couldn't imagine seeing Wesen for the first time as an adult.

"But she's coping okay," Monroe chimed in, again squeezing my hand. I nodded to enforce his words.

"It's good that Monroe has someone else to confide in." Nick smiled at Monroe, then back at me.

Nick seemed relieved to be talking about this to someone else, too. Did he have anyone human he could share this with? He'd said he had a girlfriend, so maybe she knew his secret. I was pretty lonely in the human world with all this knowledge. I had Chloe and other Wesen friends to confide in, but it still wasn't the same as having a human you could talk to.

"These secrets are safe with me," I said, keeping my eyes on Nick. "Who would believe me if I tried to say anything?" I added. And that was true. Only Wesen understood what I was seeing, and even they weren't too sympathetic that a human could see what they had to live with every day.

"If you have questions, Monroe and I are here for you," Nick said, his words trying to put me at ease. "Blutbaden are only the tip of the iceberg. There are books and books of Wesen out there. Wesen means creature in German." He sounded like a supernatural version of _Dora the Explorer_. 'Can you say Wesen? Good!' I didn't need this guy giving me a Grimmology lesson.

"Wow, sounds incredible," I replied, feigning astonishment. "It was so unreal how Monroe could woge into a wolf right in front of me," I continued, taking another sip of chianti. "But that there are other creatures that can do the same thing is amazing."

"Woge?" Nick asked with a puzzled face and swiveled his chair toward Monroe. I became flustered. The young Grimm didn't know this term yet.

"Woge. In German it translates to 'the wave that overtakes one,'" Monroe the teacher explained as he gestured a wave with his hands. "You know, it's like the surge Wesen have that causes the change within us. Like a hormonal jolt."

Nick looked back in my direction and raised an eyebrow. "And _you _know this because…?"

My spine stiffened. "Like I said, Blutbad lesson last night. Monroe doesn't leave anything out." I made myself smile, even though I was feeling the heat creep up my cheeks. Nick kept his eyes on me like he was trying to discern if what I was telling him was the truth. I'd seen enough _Columbo_ reruns to know that if I had one more slip up, then he'd figure it all out.

"Well, there are many creatures out there besides Monroe," the Grimm continued. "I've seen things that you can't even imagine."

I nodded and gave my face a look of awe as Nick mentioned a few other Wesen, but I had to stifle a laugh. This guy just started seeing Wesen a few months ago. I should be the one telling him things that would make his head spin.

Monroe put his hand on my back and I turned toward him. He gave me a look like he knew what I was thinking.

I turned my head back to Nick. "Thank you so much for taking the time to talk with me about all of this." I faked another smile.

Nick looked over in Monroe's direction like he wanted to talk to him alone.

I took the cue and stood up. "I'm going to leave you guys to talk while I clear the dishes," I said and turned toward the dining room. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Nick." I added over my shoulder as I moved forward. I let out a slow breath. What a night! I'd been interviewed by a Grimm while a Blutbad held my hand. I wouldn't have ever pictured that happening in Louisville. Oh, Portland, you're such a fun little town.

As I walked into the dining room, Nick whispered, "You're right, Monroe, she's really cute."

"Shh!" Monroe tried to hush Nick.

I scooped up a few plates and smiled as I headed toward the kitchen.

* * *

A/N: So, the _Dora the Explorer_ thing is actually a joke my husband and I started around the last few episodes of Grimm. Anytime there are new German words, I get excited and I look them up. "Woge" was one I especially had fun with because I was trying to figure out how it would be spelled. I think Grimm is such a great way to learn German. We somehow got on topic of how _Dora the Explorer _teaches you Spanish, and I said Grimm was kinda like that, so then the two merged. Sorry that was long and silly, but that's what Author Notes are for, right? (;

3 Chapters to go!

I *love* the comments, so please share your thoughts! I read each one, and they make my day! (:


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

After finishing in the kitchen, I poked my head back into the living room. Nick and Monroe were engaged in deep conversation about something having to do with Nick and a spider. He was showing him a drawing of a Spinnetod on his phone. I cleared my throat when I entered the room.

"Hey!" Monroe said, smiling. "Come sit back down!" He patted the couch cushion next to him.

"Actually I probably should get going," I responded, looking at one of the many clocks on the wall.

Monroe's face glowered and he quickly turned to Nick with a look saying 'this is your fault.' He looked back at me. "Let me walk you to your car," he offered, quickly standing up.

I stopped by Nick before leaving. "Thank you again, and it was really good to meet you."

Nick's blue-green eyes met mine. "Oh, I'm sure we'll see a lot more of each other." Nick grinned at Monroe, who was standing behind me.

Monroe cleared his throat and I turned toward him. With eyes wide, he stammered out, "Umm, let's get you to your car, okay?"

I reached for my jacket and bag on the cedar chest and walked toward the door, but Monroe stopped me a moment.

"I have something for you." He picked up a square envelope from the table beside the door. Monroe hesitated like he was thinking about something. His eyes brightened, and then he turned and reached for a pen. He scribbled something on the envelope and slid it in my pocket. "Open that later," he instructed.

I nodded, but was incredibly curious what it was.

We walked outside, and I shivered from the cold. I wrapped my jacket tightly around me. I really needed to upgrade to a coat.

"Thank you for dinner. Maybe we'll get to watch _Les Miserables_ someday." I smirked as we stood by my car.

"I'm, like, so sorry about this, dude." Monroe shook his head. "Nick wanted to meet you after, you know, he found out about what you knew, and then I felt bad that I'd let things slip. I wasn't sure what to do exactly, and, I mean, I couldn't exactly tell him, 'no.'" He held the side of my arms for a moment, then let go.

Monroe didn't need to apologize. After what I'd put him through last night, turn about was fair play for him to set me up. That was called Karma.

"It's fine. Nick seems nice actually. Not a crazy hunter like I'd envisioned with the stories I've heard."

Nick seemed nice, but I didn't care for him too much. There was just something off about him that I couldn't put my finger on. But Monroe liked him. That was obvious. Their friendship seemed genuine, and there was a mutual respect for one another. Perhaps Monroe saw someone he could mentor in some way. Just watching him explain 'woge' and how Nick took it all in gave me that impression rather quickly. Monroe was an excellent teacher, and this newbie Grimm had a lot to learn.

"You know you don't need to hide from him," Monroe told me. "I'm sure he would understand, better than most actually." Monroe still seemed conflicted that I didn't just tell Nick the truth.

"I need to trust him first, and I don't know him. I'm sure I'll tell him eventually," I said. "Right now let's just have him be okay with me knowing he's a Grimm and you're a Blutbad. Honestly that's a lot to take in for most people." I smiled to let him know I wasn't upset.

Monroe smiled back. "Once you get to know Nick, you'll see he's a good guy."

"If he's your friend, then I'm sure he's on the up and up," I said while opening my bag to search for my keys.

"I need to see you again." He held my arms once more, stopping my search. "Next time just us, I promise."

"What, no more special guests that I need to meet?" I replied jokingly.

And then Monroe kissed me. I was taken aback, but only for a moment. There was a force behind his lips as they pressed into my own. His mouth was warm and it contrasted with the cold night air. Weeks of pent-up, frustrating flirtations were being released in that one kiss. His beard brushed against my cheeks as we leaned against my car. I wrapped my fingers in his hair, pulling him in. Everything at that moment felt incredibly right. There were no worries or fears. As the kiss continued, I wanted to be inside the house instead of outside. I didn't want to leave now. Monroe pulled back abruptly, his red eyes glowing.

It took a moment for me to catch my breath. I was going to tell him not to stop, but "Oh my…" was all I managed to get out.

My eyes moved from Monroe to his front porch, where Nick was standing, grinning like a little kid. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard any of our conversation? My stomach clenched.

Monroe noticed the direction I was looking, turned and saw Nick watching us. "Dude, really?" He gestured his hands toward the door. "You know, a little privacy would be nice."

"Sorry!" Nick chuckled, still sporting a toothy grin as he walked back into the house.

Monroe turned to face me, his eyes fixated on mine. "Come back tomorrow," he stated. It wasn't a question.

"I can do that," I replied, still consumed by his red eyes. Monroe's smile was illuminated by the moonlight and those lips were tempting me for more. If Nick hadn't been inside, I wouldn't have hesitated at all to stay longer.

Instead, I managed to locate my keys, and I fell into the driver's seat. Monroe just stood there as I pulled away.

Faith Hill's 'This Kiss' lingered in my head as I tried to concentrate on the road.

"_It's centrifugal motion.__  
__It's perpetual bliss.__  
__It's that pivotal moment.__  
__It's subliminal.__  
__This kiss, this kiss,__  
__It's criminal…"_

It was all those things and more! I had a permanent smile on my face, and my body tingled all over on the drive home. And that was just a kiss. I couldn't imagine what the rest was gonna do to me.

* * *

A/N: We've moved past Disney! (:

So again, Renée is changing up the Grimm world. Chapters 25-27 would have been the Tarantella scene, but Monroe is making dinner for Renée instead of his vegetarian sausage. (The badenwurst comes up again later in my stories, don't worry!) He did keep the apron on. (; Nick and Monroe still discuss the Spinnetod and I would assume they go see Charlotte after Renée leaves.

Renée sure does like to keep her secrets and now Nick is no exception.

2 chapters to go... Stay tuned!

I love all these fantastic comments! I read them all, so share your thoughts. (:


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: **Rated M for Mature. Disney time is over, kids... (;

* * *

**Chapter 29**

I was in a trance the next morning. Somehow I'd managed to put on a navy blue dress suit with a baby blue blouse and matching navy skirt. That any of it matched at all was surprising. I grabbed my jacket from where I'd left it on the couch last night and walked outside. I got into my Malibu, my mind still hazy from the night before. As I was about to put the keys in the ignition, something poked me through my jacket. I reached in and found the envelope Monroe had given me. I'd forgotten all about it after the kiss. I turned it over to read the scribbled handwriting.

**Every song tells a story…****  
****M.**

I gingerly opened the envelope. There was a blank CD inside. What could it be? Oh, how I loved Monroe's surprises. I put it in my CD player and pressed the button. Kelly Clarkson filled the car speakers.

_"There's a place that I know,_  
_It's not pretty there and few have ever gone._  
_If I show it to you now,_  
_Will it make you run away?_

_Or will you stay?_  
_Even if it hurts._  
_Even if I try to push you out,_  
_Will you return?_  
_And remind me who I really am._  
_Please remind me who I really am._

_Everybody's got a dark side._  
_Do you love me?_  
_Can you love mine?_

_Nobody's a picture perfect._  
_But we're worth it._  
_You know that we're worth it."_

I started crying in the driveway.

"Monroe you're an incredibly smart and amazing man," I said aloud between the tears.

Even though he'd taunted me about my songs last night, deep down Monroe understood. This song meant more to me than my whole MP3 player. Pop songs weren't typically his genre of music. I laughed as the thought of Monroe finding the lyrics, then actually listening to the song and making that grimacing face like he would do when I'd play pop music in my car. It must have taken some thought and effort on his part. My smile was bigger than Mount Hood, and I was floating on cloud nine-hundred. I dried my eyes and listened to it on repeat as I drove to work.

When I got in the elevator, I texted Chloe quickly.

**Kissed! :D**

Yeah, I was the kind of gal who would kiss and tell. I'd fill her in on the details later. I got off the elevator and headed to my office, shutting the door. I was physically at my desk, but my mind was back in Monroe's driveway, Old Spice encompassing me.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

That afternoon I'd managed to get some work done, but I still had a bit to complete on my next project.

"How's the next training coming along?" my boss asked as if he'd read my mind.

"It's looking fantastic," I replied, which was half true. I needed to shake these feelings and get back to being focused. I looked at the clock again. It was quarter till four. Five minutes more than the last time I'd checked.

"We're looking forward to seeing you do your thing!" my boss said while smiling. I was looking forward to doing my thing, too, but it wasn't work related.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

At quarter till five my phone vibrated. It was probably Chloe responding from my text earlier that morning. My eyes focused on the display. Oh wow, it was from Monroe. He'd never texted me before. It was just one word.

**Waiting…**

Waiting? What did that mean? Monroe, you're always being cryptic. I wanted to reply, but should I? I bit the edge of my bottom lip as I smiled. I couldn't help myself, so I texted back.

**Waiting for…?**

After a few prolonged minutes of watching my phone for a reply, I had butterflies parading in my stomach. If I looked at it much longer my eyes were going to dry out. I blinked a few times and flipped the phone over on my desk. I forced my gaze back to my computer screen, staring blankly at a spreadsheet. I'd just do some work and he'd text back eventually. The urge to flip the phone gnawed at me, but I remained strong. I typed away at the keyboard to keep my fingers busy. My desk vibrated under my elbows and I jolted upright, snatching the phone up and anxiously looked at the screen.

**;-)**

A wink?! Oh, Monroe, so taunting! I shook my head, letting it fall back. Apparently I was to remain in the dark until I got to his house tonight. He sure knew how to push my buttons.

**(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)**

At five o'clock I rushed to my car. "Malibu, get me home!" I said, starting the engine.

Adam Levine was blaring on my radio with 'Moves like Jagger.' I was personally looking forward to some moves with Monroe. I wouldn't be able to stand it if we backtracked. That kiss was just so... Oh, he was an excellent kisser. My cheeks flushed, and I was tingling all over just thinking about it. Nicholas Sparks would've been proud. The music continued.

"_You wanted control,__  
__So we waited,__  
__I put on a show,__  
__Now we're naked…"_

Well, at least I hoped we'd be naked. Oh, crap. Was it too soon? Maybe I was being reckless again, but after that kiss I was open for pretty much anything. He had me so primed and ready. My teeth held on to my lower lip. The red sweater test had been quite a show I'd put on to get to this point. Would it ever be acceptable to wear red again? Monroe mentioned it was his favorite color. Until he said otherwise, I was moving all my red to the back of the closet.

I switched my stereo over to the CD player and listened to the words of the Kelly Clarkson song Monroe had given me.

"_Will you love me?__  
__Even with my dark side?"_

Yeah, this was our song. It was like the words had been written for us all along. I thought back to our first conversation at the bar. Even then Monroe had told me he had a dark side. I let the song repeat again as I pushed through rush hour. The traffic was building, but I managed to get through much of it fairly easily. Twenty minutes later I was turning on my street. Monroe's yellow VW was in my driveway.

"Oh my…" I said aloud. "He came here? No, that wasn't the plan!" I let the practiced calm wash over me to calm my nerves. So that's what Monroe's text had meant. Oh, Monroe, you sly wolf.

I pulled in the driveway and Monroe was standing on the porch. He was wearing a zipped up gray sweater and jeans. I liked his plaid shirts, but oh, how I loved him in sweaters. They were definitely a girl's best friend.

Slowly I got out of the car and walked up to the porch. Monroe had desire in his red eyes and I shivered. It was nothing like human desire I'd ever seen before.

"Inside," he commanded. I pulled out my keys and opened the lock.

I literally got one step past the door before he had me pressed against my living room wall. A flash of the other night flooded my brain as I gasped, but it was only for an instant. Once Monroe's mouth met mine all the fear vanished. His kiss was more intense than before and his body leaned into mine. I kissed him back, meeting his intensity. A current of heat rushed forward and radiated throughout my body. I held on to his shoulders as he kissed down my face toward my neck while unbuttoning my jacket with his nimble fingers. He pulled me toward him and the jacket was off, then he was already halfway down the buttons of my blouse. Those skilled fingers were fast, but I didn't expect this kind of dexterity. Again, never missing a beat, the blouse was off and he moved his mouth down my chest.

I unzipped his gray sweater and worked it off between kisses. His mouth went back to my neck as I slid my hands under his white t-shirt, peeling it away as he paused long enough to let me remove it. Pilates gave him a well sculpted body. My eyes took in every inch of him as I held on to his toned arms.

Monroe reached for my skirt, fervently ripping it up one side, but I didn't care. He lifted me up with strength and ease, and I wrapped my legs around him as he moved back up to my mouth. I was light-headed from forgetting to breathe. Our lips wouldn't separate that long.

I moved my hands into his wild, curly hair, and he moved his hand under my ripped skirt. Monroe showed me just how adept his fingers were as they darted underneath my panties, and I let out another gasp. He sounded pleased when he discovered how wet I already was. Little did he know I was wet when I walked up to the porch. I looked back into the inferno of red in his eyes and that devilish grin. I was going to be doing much more than gasping here soon.

"Bedroom," he uttered.

"Right." I attempted to speak, but getting the words out proved difficult now. I pointed to my bedroom door to the right of the hallway.

He whisked me up and we were there in an instant. His mouth was on me again, hot and demanding. I succumbed to his mouth, my thoughts cascading away until all that was left was him and me. He snapped the back of my bra and tore the rest of the skirt clean off. Clothes fell to the ground left and right. He laid me on the bed, hovering on top of me. With one hand he pinned my arms above my head, and I gave in to his power. Monroe moved his other hand down the length of my body, electricity in his touch to my skin. My senses were flooded with a yearning I'd forgotten ever existed. I closed my eyes, taking in the pleasure.

"Keep your eyes open," he said, and I did as I was told.

Taking his time, his mouth canvassed me and stopped at my bare breasts. His tongue was burning hot as each lick sent my back arching in ecstasy. He removed the final shreds of fabric. I was completely naked and so was he. The torn clothes were scattered all over. Our bodies writhed and turned, trying to wrap around one another.

Monroe was staying human. He could control this as well. I caught a glimpse of his eyes, and they were still on fire, sending a shiver through me. His mouth moved down my neck slowly and deliberately as his lips traveled toward my shoulder. The scruff of his beard grazed against my skin. He paused briefly, hovering between my shoulder and neck, and then suddenly he flipped me to my stomach. His hot breath beat down the back of my neck, faster now with a wanting urgency. I breathed heavily in turn, anticipating what was coming next.

His breath beat faster now, hot bursts against my throat as he lingered there. Was he going to bite or kiss or…? His teeth fastened down on my neck, answering my question. The nipping sent a surge of pleasure below my waist, and a loud moan escaped me. Monroe let out a pleasing grunt and pulled me against him, kissing down my back; his strong hands moving me onto him. The rhythm of his thrusts drummed through me, and I was responsive to his every motion. I couldn't control myself, and I came quickly along with another loud moan. Monroe uttered a throaty growl, matching my excitement, but he didn't stop. It only intensified his thrusts and my pleasure was building again. Faster and deeper until another irrepressible urge swelled throughout my body, begging for release.

I called out his name this time. Monroe howled, his voice echoing the room. He brought me forward, his mouth back on mine again. He held my face in his hands, sliding them down my neck. I reached for his hair and pulled him close, directing my hips back onto him and forcing as much of him inside me as I could. My heart pounded and the blood in my veins pulsated between my legs. My breaths were short and deliberate now. Monroe wrapped his arms around my body, guiding me back and forth onto him until I came once more. He watched my face as it flushed feverishly and then his eyes met mine, blazing red and hungry. I held my gaze as I moved faster on top of him.

"You are _so_ incredible..." Monroe said and the human words took me by surprise.

I kissed him again and my arms wrapped around him more tightly. I ran my tongue across his lips and then lightly bit the bottom one. He seemed to like the aggression and nipped at my neck once more. Monroe spun me back over onto my stomach and he fastened his tempo as I moaned again. I tried to catch my breath, but I surrendered and let the rush take me over.

With a forceful momentum he came, and I came along with him. His growl resonated on his climax, and the sound was nothing I'd ever heard before. It was pure, raw, unadulterated wolf! I couldn't hold myself up anymore, and I collapsed on the bed. The force of his orgasm had me faint.

As I lay there, my body tingled uncontrollably with small pleasure tremors. Monroe nestled beside me and draped his arm across my body, pulling me close to his chest. I breathed in his scent of Old Spice. He kissed the back of my neck, lingering there a moment. His heartbeat thumped against my back; it's pace reverberating throughout my whole body. My chest was rising and falling with its beat.

"Now that's what 'Hungry Like the Wolf' really sounds like," Monroe whispered in my ear.

"I can see why you were offended," I replied breathlessly.

* * *

A/N: So... and then that happened! (;

I don't know how to write "smut" so I'm sorry if it's mild. I hoped to give it passion and still remain tasteful. One of my favorite love scenes is "The Notebook" and I did this as an homage to that love scene. So I really do hope Nicholas Sparks would have been proud. LOL!

I've been listening to Kelly Clarkson quite a bit, and the song "Dark Side" has been the theme of this whole story as far as music goes. The entire lyrics fit Monroe and Renée perfectly and it actually works both ways because she has her own secrets and dark sides, too. So they're both asking each other not to run away.

Final chapter tomorrow. It's short and sweet, but it ties everything up pretty well. Thank you guys for reading. Comment if you liked it! (:


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

I didn't want to move. I couldn't even move if I'd wanted to. My body was still limp and moist with sweat, and I was drunk off the orgasms I'd had. We'd been lying down for easily an hour, although it may have been longer. I had no sense of time right now. I wanted Monroe to just remain holding me and this moment to never end. I closed my eyes and lightly hummed Kelly Clarkson's 'Dark Side' to myself.

Monroe squeezed me gently in acknowledgement. "How are you doing?" he finally asked, kissing my shoulder.

"There's not a word in the dictionary that can answer that." I dreamily sighed.

He chuckled softly. "So, I take it that means it was okay?"

"If okay means the most unimaginable, mind-blowing sex ever," I said, "then yeah it was okay."

Monroe laughed and pulled me closer and I leaned my head back on his chest. I considered myself pretty great in bed. Monroe had trumped all that in spades. I had my work cut out for me, but I was up for the challenge.

"I was starting to wonder…" My thoughts trailed off.

"Wonder what?"

"If you and I were going to remain flirtatious friends, or if there was something more." These last few weeks had been like the longest foreplay I'd ever had. But it had paid off well tonight.

"When we first met, you were just an incredibly sexy woman that I wanted, but couldn't really share anything with," he said. "Now you're an incredibly sexy woman, or, you know, maybe something else, that I don't have to hide anything from." He had a point. He usually did. Maybe the red sweater test hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

"Incredibly sexy, huh?" I amusedly chuckled.

Monroe nuzzled my neck. "Oh, you have no idea!"

"Better than that Blue Beard's 'catch of the day' you had your eye on?"

"Dude, there's no comparison," he replied. "I still hope she has poison ivy in places she can't scratch."

I laughed as I turned to face Monroe, losing myself in his deep brown eyes that were no longer a mystery. I finally knew the story behind them, and oh, what a story it was! The next chapters were ours to write. Perhaps the rest of that story would have a fairy tale ending.

**To Be Continued…**

**Story Two:****  
****_Fifty Shades of Gray Sweaters_****_  
_****Available NOW!**

* * *

A/N: I want to thank Grimm for being so incredibly inspiring. I LOVE THIS FANDOM! I can't say that enough!

I've enjoyed writing this story and creating a couple of OC's in the process. I want to thank you, the readers, for all the wonderful comments. I've never done anything like this before, and I've been on cloud nine with the responses I've received. So thank you! (:

Renée's story isn't over! If you liked this one, go look up the Sequel: **_Fifty Shades of Gray Sweaters_**. (No, it's not *that* kind of story. Sorry to disappoint! LOL!)

*****If you enjoyed this, then please, please with gumdrops and rainbows comment/favorite/follow!*****

Your responses are important to me! I read every comment I get, and it makes my day!

Now I'm going to pop open a bottle of pink moscato and celebrate the completion of my first fan-fic! Woo-hoo! (:

-DeWinter79-


End file.
